


tiny little child thing

by michellejones_stacy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Renegotiated Sokovia Accords, Angst, Anti Team Cap, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awkward Conversations, Crying, Diapers, Domestic Fluff, Dubious Science, Dum-E and U are the Best Bots, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, Fluff, Gen, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Minor Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pepper Potts Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter is their favorite human and Tony is jealous, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Strained Friendships, THE SCIENCE DOESN'T MAKE SENSE AT ALL, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, but only in the beginning, cause i feel like i need to say it again, did i mention that the science in this is really really wrong?, i have an outline for this i promise i'm just really bad at outlining, i suck at characterization so yeah, it gets better as we progress through the story, kind of??, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24757348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellejones_stacy/pseuds/michellejones_stacy
Summary: Peter had already accepted the fact that his luck was shit.At this point, it was just a way of life for him. Everything that could possibly go wrong in his life went wrong in the worst way possible, almost every time.He couldn’t help but curse it now, as everything went black.orPeter gets hit by a de-aging weapon and turns into a two-year-old, and must rely on Tony (who thinks he has no idea how to take care of a child) and others until he can be returned to normal, if that's even possible.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Pepper Potts, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 43
Kudos: 206





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for now, updates are going to be every other Friday, but that is subject to change at any given moment. it's more of a tentative update schedule than anything else.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets hurt and ends up leaving Tony with a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was supposed to be asleep but I got this idea and it just had to come out. I'm also trying to write lots and lots of happy things, so we'll see where that goes. It's not very well-written (objectively speaking), but I fully intend on coming back and polishing it up a bit. Any and all constructive criticism is welcome :))
> 
> Also, Karen – Peter's AI – is in this, but it's only a brief mention and then a small speaking part, because I don't feel like I'd do her wonderful personality justice, and I'd hate to ruin her cause she's just as precious as Peter is.

Peter had already accepted the fact that his luck was shit.

At this point, it was just a way of life for him. Everything that could possibly go wrong in his life went wrong in the worst way possible, almost every time.

And, even though his luck wasn’t something Peter usually dwelled on for too long – he didn’t want to seem overly focused on his own problems when other people probably had it way worse than he did – he couldn’t help but curse it now.

Because of course he would be surrounded by random thugs, who all had knives and were obviously feeling pretty stabby, when he had just under fifteen minutes before he broke curfew.

The deal Peter had made – more like the decision he’d been forced to accept – with Aunt May and Tony was that he had to be either at the apartment or the Tower, depending on the extent of whatever injuries he’d sustained during that night’s patrol, before ten-thirty (though that was extended to eleven-thirty on weekends or times when Peter didn't have school the next day).

Peter hadn't thought it was fair – he still didn't; crime never stopped, after all – but it was either follow the rules or stop being Spider-Man, and Peter couldn’t do that to the city of Queens. Even if it – more its criminals and bad citizens, really – and his dumb Parker Luck had screwed him over more times than he could count.

But, despite it all, Peter loved being Spider-Man. He loved helping people, looking out for the little guy. He loved the thrill he got from swinging high throughout the city, relying on nothing but his webs and his muscle strength to keep him from falling.

Still, there were some… less appealing aspects of the job.

Fighting four men in a cramped back alley – that smelled like every last perishable thing in the world had gathered there and rotted – was one of them. Peter had caught the men breaking into a pawn shop, and they had run away when he showed up. Why they’d decided to run into this alley, of all places, was beyond Peter, but he’d followed regardless.

In all honesty, Peter should’ve been able to handle the situation. The men weren’t particularly hard to fight – in objective terms, at least – even though they had knives. Their punches and other blows were sloppy and didn’t hurt all that much, and the small cuts given to him by the knives were barely noticeable. Peter couldn’t say if that was because his pain tolerance had built up significantly – a building had been dropped on him and he’d lifted that no problem (okay, maybe not _no problem_ but he’d made it out alive, hadn’t he?) – or if the men actually sucked at fighting _that much_.

But, even though Peter shouldn’t have broken a sweat fighting off these guys, he was struggling. He hadn’t had the most restful sleep the night before – memories of his homecoming night wouldn’t let him close his eyes for very long, much like they seemed to be hindering his ability to focus now, now that he’d brought them up in his mind – and he’d eaten only a small amount of food as a result. Peter was well aware that he needed to sleep and eat if he wanted to remain at his best – something both Aunt May and Tony had repeatedly drilled into his head – but today had turned out to be a bad day (he hadn’t even made as many witty remarks that he usually made in fights, all of which were, admittedly, pretty awesome).

As a result, the bad guys were gaining the upper hand, two of them in front of him, blocking the way out of the alley, and two behind him. Peter’s reaction time slowed down, even though his Spidey-sense kept warning him of incoming fists and elbows and kicks and gleaming blades of sharp metal and such. His body ached with exhaustion and he swore his vision grew blurry behind his mask, but still he fought. He dodged the intended blows as best as he could and ignored Karen’s repeated inquiries on his ability to handle the situation.

Caught up in avoiding being hit, ignoring Karen, and fighting off the tiredness that seeped into his bones, Peter didn’t notice that one of the men had backed off and was pulling something out of his pocket until it was pointing at him, his Spidey-sense was going off like crazy. The weapon looked to be about the same size as a gun, but it looked… off. It had strange markings, but maybe the guy decorated his guns – Peter didn’t know, and he didn't care. Time seemed to slow down as the man pulled the trigger and a concentrated blast of blue energy started to make its way towards Peter.

The tiny hairs all over his body – on the back of his neck especially – rose as his brain screamed at him to move out of the way, and Peter started to react. His legs tensed as he prepared himself to leap out of the way, but then a thought crashed its way into his brain.

There was a man standing behind him.

Even if the guy was a bad apple, Peter didn’t know what the weird thing did and he wasn’t willing to put other people – again, even if said people were bad – in danger.

The blue energy beam – which reminded Peter of the beam that aliens use to beam their victims into their spaceship (except this one was way smaller, obviously having a purpose of being able to hit any specific part on a body while minimizing the risk of unintended victims) – hit him. Peter felt electricity surge through his veins and spread throughout his body. His muscles tensed as he waited to pass out, or disintegrate, or _something_. He vaguely felt the eyes of the men on him, obviously waiting for something to happen, too.

When nothing did, Peter couldn’t resist smiling. The exhaustion that had previously filled Peter had been chased away, replaced by a thrumming energy simmering under his skin. His heart beat fast, thumping in his chest, and his head cleared. Peter was feeling the same way he had felt when he’d had five cups of coffee in an hour as an attempt to help him pull an all-nighter (which was against the rules, according to Tony and Aunt May, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them).

“Whoa,” he breathed out, glancing down at himself before back up at the four men, who all wore shocked looks on their faces, with a smile. “That felt _awesome_. Thanks, man.” Before the men could recover from their surprise, Peter shot out a webs and stuck the two men in front of him to the opposite alley wall. He turned around and did the same to the other two men as they tried to run away, the knives clattering to the ground.

Peter felt great. He felt _alive_. He could feel the energy surging through his body, and he felt like he could do anything he put his mind to. But, he did have to follow the curfew set in place, which, as Karen now informed him, meant he was expected to be at either the Tower or the apartment in less than five minutes. Which was a huge problem.

So, after instructing Karen to inform his buddy in the police department – who Peter only contacted when he had someone for him to pick up – about the men in the alley, he shot a web up and started to make his way towards the apartment.

The agonizing pain started as he lifted his left arm to shoot a web at a different building.

Peter started to fall, but he managed to catch himself by shooting a web before he could hit the ground and turn into a spider-pancake. He quickly made his way to the top of the building he had shot a web at, where he collapsed and grit his teeth against the pain. He landed on his knees and leant forward until his forehead rested against the dirty roof.

His head pounded, much worse than it had been doing when he'd been fighting the men in the alley, and every last cell in his body felt like they were attempting to rip themselves in half. Peter swore he could hear – and feel, which was more disconcerting – his bones crunching and twisting.

"Peter,” came Karen’s mechanical voice, somehow infused with a note of worry, “it seems you are exhibiting signs of extreme distress, as well as a type of physical injury that I am not programmed to recognize. As per the Baby Monitor Protocol, I am now contacting Mr. Stark."

Peter fell to his side and pulled his mask off halfway, so his mouth and nose were exposed but the rest of his face remained covered, hoping that breathing in cool air would help.

It didn't.

"Yeah," he breathed out in response to Karen, his ribs and every other part of him aching from the pain. "Yeah, sounds g-good, that's a good idea. Thanks, Karen."

If Karen replied, Peter didn't know.

Peter rolled onto his back and gasped as the pain increased tenfold. He gritted his teeth in an effort to keep silent, but he couldn't stop the whimper that managed to escape his lips. He laid in his pain for a few moments before he heard a voice.

"Kid?" Tony's voice filtered into Peter's head, cutting through the haze of pain. "I'm in the middle of thinking up some very important upgrades to your suit, so this better be goo–"

Peter cut him off with a scream that tore out of his throat, coming out of nowhere. Each and every one of his muscles – muscles Peter wasn't even aware he had – had seized up, tightening to a degree that shouldn't have been possible. Sweat beaded on Peter's forehead as he tried to ignore the intense amount of pain. His muscles relaxed all at once, but the relief was short-lived. A groan stuck in his throat as he started to violently spasm, his whole body twitching.

In an effort to distract himself, he tuned back into Tony's voice, which had been muffled and in the background.

"–eter, kid, what's happening? _Shit_ , okay, I'm in the suit right now, I’m coming, hold on. FRI, give me the kid’s location and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

The thought that Tony was coming – and the emotional relief that came with it – was smothered by another round of excruciating pain that caused Peter to let out a strained gasp. His muscles were contracting and releasing as his heart beat dangerously fast in his chest and sweat poured over his face. The suit stuck to Peter uncomfortably, and the fact that he was sweating made it even worse.

And, just when he didn’t think it could get any worse, everything inside Peter’s body erupted into flames, burning him from the inside out.

The tears came out of nowhere, and Peter was sobbing, sobbing because it hurt so much, and all he wanted was Tony to help.

In the back of his mind, Peter recalled a memory of when he’d gotten stabbed two weeks prior. Tony had been livid at first, jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury, and Peter had started rambling apologies through the searing pain in his abdomen. When Tony had understood that Peter had thought that he’d been mad at him for getting stabbed, the anger in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by a soft look as comforting words had left his mouth.

Peter wanted Tony’s comforting demeanor with him now, because this was so much worse than having a knife shoved into him. He couldn’t even begin to describe the amount of pain he was in.

As he laid on the roof, feeling tiny rocks and pebbles digging into the back of his arms and legs and torso, Peter let out strangled groans and horse cries, letting them drift away into the night air. The pain increased and increased until it reached a point where Peter couldn't take it anymore, and everything went black.

~

Tony was panicking, something that he didn’t do often.

(Oh, who was he kidding – it seemed like Tony panicked over everything having to do with Peter these days. That kid would be the death of him.)

He’d been in the lab thinking up some new features that could’ve been added to the Spider-Man suit, just like he’d told the kid, when FRIDAY had informed him that Karen – he still couldn’t believe that Peter had named a multi-million dollar AI _Karen_ , even if the name did seem to fit her in a weird way – had told her that Peter was in distress.

Safe to say that was the moment Tony’s brain descended into the deep, dark space that was reserved for anything bad that could happen to Peter at any given time. Peter with a bullet wound, Peter with a knife wound, Peter bleeding out in a dirty alley somewhere – all those scenarios and more raced through his mind in an instant.

Tony had gotten into a suit without another word, his heart beating against the inside of his chest and his head pounding with barely restrained worry, and had followed FRIDAY’s directions until he was on the outskirts of Queens, the trip taking entirely too long for Tony’s liking. Soon, he landed on what seemed to be an abandoned building, Peter nowhere in sight.

“Pete?” he called out, gaining no response. “Talk to me, FRI, I thought you said he was here,” Tony said, his voice low as he looked around.

FRIDAY spoke up as Tony was scanning his surroundings, turning in a circle to make sure he didn’t miss anything.

“Boss? I’m detecting a heat signature behind the wooden pallets on your left.”

Tony was immediately walking over towards the pile of wooden pallets, his suit clanking as he stepped. As he got closer, he could make out a flash of red and blue, obviously belonging to Peter’s suit.

“Oh, thank God, Pete,” he breathed out, moving the wooden pallet away. “You okay there, ki–”

The words stopped in Tony’s throat. Because staring up at him was not a fifteen-year-old kid. Instead, Tony gazed down at a baby with big brown eyes filled with tears and a thumb in his mouth.

As the baby saw him, the tears started falling, spilling over his cheeks and leaving tear tracks down his face. The Spider-Man suit pooled around his waist, leaving his upper body bare, the mask laying a few feet away. The baby mumbled words around the thumb in his mouth, but they went unheard by Tony because Tony was freaking the fuck out.

Tony didn’t know what to do with babies. He didn’t know how this baby had gotten here, all alone on the roof of an abandoned building, or how he’d gotten a Spider-Man suit that seemed scarily accurate and high-tech and familiar.

The _baby_ seemed scarily familiar.

Not to mention the fact that the baby was wrapped in _Peter’s suit_ , but Peter himself wasn’t here.

Tony Stark was a genius. He’d become an expert on thermonuclear astrophysics over what should have been dinner. He built dangerously technologically advanced suits and a variety of other Avengers weapons. He was essentially the brains behind the research and development department of Stark Industries.

None of that meant Tony Stark had the slightest idea what to do with a crying child.

“Uh, FRI,” he stuttered out. “Where are this kid’s parents? How would he have gotten up here by himself?”

FRIDAY didn’t answer, not at first, which only increased Tony’s panic. He thought his heart rate would drop back to a normal and safe level once she finally spoke, but, oh, how he was wrong.

“I do not know, Boss.”

Tony groaned and took a deep breath before taking a step away from the baby curled up into a ball, his little arms around himself. As Tony moved away, the baby sat up and started wailing, his thumb popping out of his mouth and his arms reaching out to Tony. His hands curled and uncurled in Tony’s direction, presumably wanting to be picked up. The baby seemed to be trying to speak but could barely push the words out from how hard he was sobbing.

Tony Stark had no idea how to handle a crying child, but he had even less of an idea what to do when it came to a wailing one.

“FRI, how do I get him to shut up?” Tony hissed, watching as the baby’s face turned red as he cried.

“Most sources I’ve referenced state that the most efficient way to handle a crying child is to provide them with physical and emotional comfort.”

“Physical and emotional comfort,” Tony repeated, his head starting to hurt from the thought of picking this child up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not, Boss.”

Tony was going to kill Peter as soon as he found the little shit and made sure he was alright.

Tony grumbled under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay,” he muttered to himself, hoping to psych himself up for the action of picking up and holding a random child close to him. “Okay. I got this. I’m Tony Stark. There’s literally nothing I can’t do. I’m a genius. _I got this._ ”

“Of course you do, Boss. May I suggest hurrying this along before someone comes to investigate?”

Tony made a face at FRIDAY’s words, but complied nonetheless.

He stepped out of the suit and took cautious and slow steps towards the baby, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “Hey,” he said softly, albeit a bit awkwardly, reaching down to pick the baby up, picking the Spider-Man suit as well and wrapping it around the baby. No way was Tony seeing the private parts of a random baby. Child. How old was this kid anyway? “So. I have no idea how to do this, but I really need you to stop crying.” Tony was good at hiding his emotions from the world; he did it everywhere, almost all the time. But, in the face of a child in need of physical and emotional comfort and a missing Peter, Tony couldn’t help the way panic bled through his tone. “I’m looking for someone. His name is Peter. He might have gotten into some trouble and he might be waiting for me to come and save him.”

Tony had no idea how much of this the kid was absorbing or understanding, but the sobs had quieted some in the past few seconds as the baby listened to Tony’s voice. Or maybe it was because Tony had picked the kid up.

God, Peter was so dead. Leaving Tony with a child in need of consoling and _his suit_. He _knew_ Tony was not good with tears just as well as he knew that he wasn’t supposed to just leave the Spider-Man suit in the possession of random people.

The kid sniffled before he spoke, his voice wobbly and thick with tears. “P-Pe’er.”

Tony nodded as he held the kid out at arm's length. “Yeah, that’s right.” The kid seemed to be calming down now that they were engaging in conversation. Maybe if Tony kept him talking, he’d be able to keep the kid occupied until his parents could be located. “I’m looking for Peter.”

“No!" the kid screamed, shaking his head vigorously. “Pe’er. _Pe’er._ ” The kid could barely get the words out through his tears.

“Yeah, kid,” Tony said, annoyance flashing through him and making its way into his voice. “Peter. I know. I’m looking for Peter, I thought we’d already covered this. Have you seen him? Is that what this is about?”

The kid shook his head again, kicking his little legs back and forth. An angry, “Pe’er,” left his mouth again, and Tony gave a heavy sigh.

Thank God he’d never wanted kids.

“Alright, kid, where are your parents?” Tony asked with a tired note to his voice, his arms starting to ache with the strain of holding the kid away from his body.

The baby in his hands seemed to pause for a second, like he was remembering something, before the tears were back in full force. Jesus. Was it something he’d said?

“Fuck. Okay. This is fine,” Tony told himself, the baby in his arms sobbing away. “This is all so very fine. Not like Peter is dead, or anything.” Or maybe Peter was bleeding out in an alley somewhere with no way to contact Tony and he was too busy standing here with a crying child to know. “I’ll just drop this little guy off at a police station or somewhere and then–”

“ _No!_ ” the child screamed through his tears, his legs kicking out at Tony again. “No, please.” The kid’s _please_ had sounded more like _pwease_ , and Tony shoved away the urge to coo. Mostly because Tony Stark did not _coo_ , but also because he didn't know if the kid would take offense to that or not.

Tony raised an eyebrow and let out an aggravated sigh. “Listen, kid, I need to drop you off somewhere where you’ll be safe and where your par– _guardians_ can find you.”

Something happened then. The look in the baby’s eyes – the one that screamed child – disappeared. It was replaced by a very familiar fearful look, one that Tony had seen in Peter’s eyes just two weeks before when he’d gotten stabbed on patrol, and was joined by a glint of knowledge that a child should not have had.

“Mis’er S’ark, pwease.”

Tony froze, and the baby took the opportunity to continue speaking, pushing the words out through the tears.

“Pe’er. Me. I’s Pe’er.

There was no way. There was no way in all of absolute _hell_.

“Peter?” Tony asked blankly, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth as he stared back at the baby.

As the baby – _Peter_ – nodded, Tony studied his face. Now that he was looking, he could see some similarities between this baby version of Peter and big Peter. Same adorable cheeks, same wide brown eyes, same look of innocence.

Same trusting look that appeared whenever Peter looked at Tony.

“You – I – _Shit_ , kid.”

Peter giggled. “Bad word.” Another round of giggles escaped his tiny mouth.

Tony had the idea to drop the kid, but stopped himself because, one, dropping children was not something people did, and, two, it was Peter.

Shit. It was _Peter_.

May was going to kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, that's that. I know it doesn't really make a whole ton of sense, but I'm really just tryna write something happy for the sake of writing something happy, you know?
> 
> Also, I'm hoping the reasoning behind the baby not telling Tony he was Peter earlier will be explained later on. Hopefully. If it's not, please let me know. I've prewritten almost this entire thing, but I'm trying to fix any major plot holes and shit as I go.
> 
> Thank you :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has doubts and holds an interesting conversation with Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anywho, I'm sorry this took so long, but i ran into some complications while writing (i totally didn't completely forget about May or anything *nervous laughter*).
> 
> i don't even know where i'm going with this story anymore and it's legit the second chapter lmao
> 
> (at the end, Tony may seem out of character, but that's just because it is my personal belief that while Tony is admittedly a genius, he is one hundred percent a Dumb Bitch when it comes to casual conversations with Happy as opposed to with fellow businessmen. yeah.)

Tony squeezed his eyes shut against the raging headache he could feel coming on.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept – lies; it was fifty-three hours ago, as FRIDAY had informed him a while before Peter had called (which meant it had to have been even longer now), long enough to be not normal, but certainly not the longest time Tony had gone without sleep – and dealing with baby Peter was definitely not going to help the way his head pounded against his skull.

Though, then again, how could Tony be sure that this Peter was _his_ Peter? The kid staring back at Tony with teary eyes might have been some random kid named Peter who knew who Tony Stark was. That was, admittedly, doubtful, but Tony refused to accept that this had happened without explicit proof. He had no idea how a teenager turning into a child would even be possible, which meant he had no idea how to fix it. Which in turn meant that, if this was Peter, Tony probably wouldn’t be able to help for a while.

For a brief moment, Tony debated telling May, but he quickly shot that idea down. He needed to be absolutely _certain_ that the kid he was holding in his arms was Peter before he told May. Tony was more than sure that Peter would not be happy if Tony involved May in Spider-Man problems for no good reason, even if the consequences for this particular situation wouldn't be all that bad. Realistically, the worst thing that could come from Tony telling May and it turning out to be a false alarm was worrying, and possibly upsetting, her. But Tony supposed that was exactly why Peter wanted to hold off on telling her anything in most situations.

If the child that Tony could feel looking at him _was_ Peter, Tony would have to inform May, which frightened him to no end.

Tony didn't want to involve May if this whole _getting turned into a child_ thing turned out to be a false alarm. The woman scared Tony almost as much as Pepper did, which came as a surprise. May had lost her temper – and that was putting it mildly – when she'd found out that Peter was Spider-Man and Tony's role in it, going as far to forbid Tony from seeing Peter (which thankfully, only lasted for about two or three weeks before Tony was able to win her over). Thank God she hadn't found out about what happened in Germany – Tony was confident that May would castrate him herself if that piece of information ever came to light.

Determined to get all thoughts of his private – and very important – parts being harmed out of his mind, Tony opened his eyes with a sigh and studied the kid he held at arm's length. Tears were steadily pouring down said kid's face, the thumb back in his mouth. He stared at Tony, whose heart was clenching as he took in the tears, and mumbled words around his thumb, words that Tony made no attempt to decipher.

"Alright… _you_ ," Tony said, his tone stilted. He began to lower the kid back down to sit on the roof, making sure the Spider-Man suit remained snugly wrapped around him. "I gotta put you down so I can get in the suit, and then I'll take you back to the Tower."

Maybe-Peter let out a sound of protest and started wriggling, placing a hand – the one that wasn't in his mouth, thank God – flat on Tony's right arm. Tony grunted as the kid squirmed, fear of dropping his shooting through Tony’s heart, but kept lowering him. As soon as the kid's feet were on the ground, Tony attempted to pull back and step back into his suit that waited behind him.

Surprise raced through him when he found he couldn't.

When Tony had tried to step away from maybe-Peter, his arm had stayed in place and had jerked the rest of his body back so he was closer to the kid. Pain temporarily flared in Tony's shoulder, fading into a dull ache, but he ignored it in favor of looking down to see what was going on with his arm.

The only thing Tony's arm was touching, though – or, rather, the only thing that was touching Tony's arm – was maybe-Peter's hand.

Tony glanced from the kid's hand on his arm to the kid's face and back again. Confusion raced through him as he tried to tug his arm back again and the kid’s hand didn't budge.

"Uh, kid?" Tony asked, hesitant. "Are you… Are you sticking to me?"

Maybe-Peter's – though Tony was starting to lean more and more away from the possibility that this wasn’t Peter – face was filled with panic and Tony watched as more tears built up in his eyes.

Peter took the thumb out of his mouth to say, "Don' weave. No sui'."

Ignoring the way his heart twisted – what was this kid doing to him? – Tony looked back down at the small hand laying on his forearm before he looked back up at the kid. "I have to get in the suit if I'm going to get you to the Tower," Tony explained, slowing his words down and forcing his tone to be as soft as it could possibly be, which proved to be one of the more difficult things he’d done in his life.

It made sense to Tony. Once Tony got the kid back to the Tower, he could go to the med bay and have blood drawn. He could compare it to the sample of Peter's blood he'd kept from the most recent stabbing incident – which sounded way less creepy before Tony had acknowledged it – and they could work from there.

It was the most logical, and _practical_ , approach to the situation.

“And, anyway,” Tony continued, “I’m taking you with me, so I’m technically not leaving.”

But the kid wasn't having it.

Maybe-Peter shook his head, a strong, and negative, "Mm-mm," leaving his mouth. He didn't move his hand. "No sui'."

Tony sighed again, exasperation rising in his chest.

It was starting to become more and more likely that this was Peter, for two reasons. One, the whole sticky hands thing fit in with Peter's abilities, and, two, the kid had the same stubborn look in his eye that Tony had seen in Peter on multiple occasions. The look normally only appeared when Peter wanted to get Tony to put on a Star Wars movie for their movie nights, or when he wanted Tony to eat or sleep, but it was still the same look.

Not to mention the fact that getting turned into a literal child seemed exactly like a situation that Peter would get himself into.

"Kid, you're being ridiculous," Tony snapped with a roll of his eyes. "Now let go of me so I can get you back to the Tower and we can fix this."

Peter shook his head again, placing his other – still wet, mind you – hand on Tony's left arm. "No."

Well. At least the kid had that word down pact pronunciation wise.

Tony's temper – worn down from the lack of sleep and food and the amount of coffee he'd consumed earlier throughout the day – flared. He opened his mouth, ready to tell the kid off, but something stopped him.

Whether it was the fact that he was about to yell at a baby, or the fact that it was probably _Peter_ he was about to tell off – after the kid's homecoming night and all the events that had led up to it, Tony couldn't bring himself to shout at him – for something that most likely wasn't his fault, Tony didn't know. What he did know, however, was that he didn't need the probable emotional outbreak that would occur if he yelled at the kid.

For all of Tony’s misgivings, he wasn’t a _monster_ , for God’s sake. Yes, he was terrible with kids, but he knew just enough about children to know that you shouldn’t yell at them, though Tony supposed that was more because of how his own personal experiences with Howard yelling at him had affected him. He couldn’t do that to Peter – or any other child, for that matter.

So, Tony let out another sigh and pulled the kid back up. Peter must’ve turned off his stickiness, however that worked, because Tony was able to easily pick him back up. Instead of keeping him at arm's length, though, Tony pulled Peter in a little closer than before in an attempt to reduce the strain on his arms. Peter, mistakenly, took that as a sign to leap forward and wrap his limbs around Tony – something that Tony was both not expecting and not completely comfortable with – as he rested his head on Tony's left shoulder.

Peter let out a content hum, and Tony stiffened as he felt air brush against the side of his neck as Peter exhaled.

God, Tony was holding a child. A small, extremely fragile child. A _child_.

Children and Tony Stark did not mix well. Children and Stark men in general did not mix well.

Howard had not been one prone to using physical means to control Tony’s actions, instead turning to other methods (though Tony suspected that had been more because Tony had spent the majority of his time in the public's eye and bruises would not go unnoticed). Howard also hadn’t been the best parent in the world, that much Tony could admit to himself. If Tony was being honest, Howard, at best, had been a neglectful asshole.

Hell, Howard was a big part of the reason why Tony had turned out the way he did.

(That was something Rhodey had told him on multiple different occasions. Tony honestly couldn't see the problem with how he was. Sure, in his MIT days and the many, _many_ , years that came after, Tony had gone wild. He'd made bad choices and some questionable decisions, but he'd cleaned himself up, _redeemed_ himself, hadn't he?)

So, yes, Howard had been a shitty parent. Tony didn't know what Howard's father had been like, but he'd always suspected it couldn't have been good. Howard's father had to have been a bad enough parent for Howard to turn out the way he did. As a result, it only made sense that those not up to par parenting skills had to have been passed on, like a curse that Tony would be haunted by forever.

But, back to the topic at hand, Tony was holding a child. It should have been more uncomfortable, more _weird_ – which isn't to say it wasn't, because it most definitely was – but, surprisingly, it felt almost... _normal_. 

Well, maybe normal was the wrong word.

It felt almost like something Tony could get used to.

Peter rested against Tony's chest, unmoving, his warmth bleeding through the under armour shirt Tony was wearing. His arms hung around Tony's neck, draping over his shoulders, and his feet crossed at the ankles against Tony's lower back.

And he was so… _light_. Were all kids supposed to feel like they weighed like nothing?

Granted, Teenager Peter wasn’t exactly a heavy kid, even with all the muscles he had. Tony had never questioned it, though. His curiosity had been hard to curb, at first, but he'd managed to do it. He didn't want to run tests or experiments on Peter, no matter how much his body buzzed with the need to know everything.

What helped was Peter's openness with everything. Peter had told Tony that he'd gotten his abilities after being bitten by a spider on a field trip to Oscorp – ew, _Oscorp_ , of all places; Tony would have to offer Stark Industries to Midtown High as a field trip destination – and what most of said abilities were. From there, Tony had managed to draw some of his own conclusions.

He'd figured out that Peter was lighter than his appearance gave away, but that hadn't been something that had been planned. Peter had been staying the night at the Tower, something they did from time to time – which normally meant every other week – and he'd stayed up longer than Tony had expected him to. In all honesty, Tony hadn't been expecting the kid to stay awake as long as he did. When he'd asked Peter a question and he hadn't answered, Tony had turned to the kid's lab bench and had seen him passed out, his head buried into his arms.

And Tony had smiled. He'd watched the kid – he'd never seen him sleep up close before, and he'd been delighted to see that Peter was peaceful and calm while dreaming – before he'd stood up and walked over. 

Tony had gently maneuvered Peter into his arms, and that had been when he'd realized just how light the kid was.

(It was confusingly endearing. Not that Tony would ever admit that to anyone or speak of what had happened.)

Teenager Peter was on the small side, even in spite of being Spider-Man, but baby Peter was _tiny_. Tony was eighty-six percent sure that kids Peter's age – baby Peter couldn't have been older than two – were supposed to weigh more.

But, then again, what did Tony know about children?

That thought brought Tony out of his mind, and he was startled to see that his own arms had wrapped around Peter's back, holding him close against his chest.

Goddammit.

Tony couldn't bring himself to push the kid away, not when he was being so cuddly – again, something that Tony would deny he'd ever even thought – so he sighed and went with it, deciding on a course of action that wouldn’t result in a crying Peter.

Tony honestly didn’t he could he take baby Peter crying – he could barely handle it when Peter the teenager teared up.

“Okay, kid. No suit.”

(And if Tony’s heart started to pound in his chest at the way Peter squirmed his way closer to Tony’s neck and let out a soft sigh once he was settled? No one was ever going to find out about that. Ever.)

~

Tony waited by the curb with Peter pressed up against his chest. After getting off the roof, he had sent the Iron Man suit back to the Tower and had called Happy with instructions to come to his location and get him.

From there, he’d gone into a thrift store to find more comfortable clothes for Peter, as the too large Spider-Man suit wasn’t going to cut it. Not wanting to get caught in a department store with a child, Tony had gone into a thrift store. He’d found a plain t-shirt, in what he guessed was Peter’s size, and a pair of shorts that seemed to fit him, both of which Peter was wearing now. Tony, while he hadn’t trusted the clothes the thrift store carried, hadn’t trusted the shoes there, so Peter was going barefoot.

It had been tough for Tony to get Peter dressed. While the kid had eventually woken up with all the rather rough maneuvering Tony was doing to his limbs, Peter had refused to help – instead, he’d stared up at Tony with half-lidded eyes in a way that had definitely not been cute.

Tony had managed to get it done, though, even if it had taken longer than he had expected. After throwing some money at the extremely bored teenager who had barely shot him a second glance as she rang him up at the counter, Tony had left the store in a rush with Peter cradled in his arms, folding the Spider-Man suit as best he could and pinning it to his side with his arm.

Tony knew that Happy didn’t appreciate being called at fifteen minutes past midnight to pick him up, but it was the only other option Tony could think of besides carrying Peter in the suit, which wasn’t going to happen. Calling Pepper was a no-no, only because Tony was sure that she’d have his head, and Rhodey was away on a mission for the government.

(In the back of his mind, it hurt Tony to think that those were the only people he could call now if he was in trouble. Everyone else he might’ve even _considered_ to call weren’t around, and half of them wouldn’t have picked up the phone if they were.)

So, Happy was the next person on his list of trusted friends.

The sleek, black car pulled up to the curb where Tony stood – it was a miracle no one walking past Tony on the sidewalk had recognized him, but he wasn’t going to question it – with Peter still cradled in his arms, asleep. Happy was, ironically enough, not happy – that much was obvious to Tony. He got out of the car, slamming the driver’s door behind him, and marched over to the two of them, the glare and scowl on his face rivaling Pepper’s.

But, before Happy could start in on whatever angry speech he had planned for Tony – because Tony knew that Happy had stewed in his anger in the car and had practiced a speech full of things to say, as he’d admitted to having done before – his eyes landed on Peter. Happy’s mouth fell open and his brow furrowed in confusion before it cleared in the span of a second, his expression going from angry to resigned.

“Oh, God,” Happy said wearily, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes shut.

“What?” Tony’s brow furrowed as he cocked his head, not aware of what Happy was getting upset about. Happy didn’t respond, leading Tony to ask another, “What?”, this one more defensive than the last.

Happy let out a heavy sigh and removed his hand from his face, opening his eyes in the process. "Oh, God,” he said again, his eyes flicking from Peter to Tony and back again. Everything about Happy screamed tense, and Tony would’ve felt bad had it not been for the fact that he was still very much confused about what could’ve caused Happy’s reaction to seeing him and Peter. It was just Peter and Tony, both of which were people Happy interacted with on what was pretty much a daily basis.

Peter started moving slightly, and Tony looked down at the child wrapped around his chest. Peter’s hands gripped the front of Tony’s shirt, and Tony couldn’t help but smile at the way the kid’s hair – curlier than it had been when Peter had been a teenager – was all tangled and at the way Peter’s face seemed to be trying to burrow its way into Tony’s chest. Tony readjusted his grip on Peter, hitching him a bit higher on his chest, before he looked back up at Happy.

Who was panicking.

(And drawing the attention of many passersby, who shot them weird looks as they gave the two men a wide berth.)

“Oh, God. Oh, _God_ , Tony, what the _hell_. Who’s the mother?”

That… was a very weird question for Happy to be asking. How was Tony supposed to know who Peter’s mother was?

Tony looked back down at Peter, his forehead scrunching up as he thought. “I don’t know,” he mused to himself, though his voice was loud enough for Happy to hear. “It’s not May, that much I know, ‘cause that’s his aunt, but I don’t really know anything about who his mother is.”

And he didn’t. Peter hadn’t told him anything about his parents, other than they were dead, and Tony was, thankfully, smart enough to realize that he shouldn’t go prying. If Peter wanted Tony to know, Tony would know. As it stood, Peter didn’t want Tony to know what had happened to his parents – or wasn’t ready to tell him yet, which Tony highly hoped was the case – and Tony was more than okay with respecting that.

Happy let out a groan, and Tony’s head snapped up. He frowned as he took in the way Happy was covering his face with his hands. “What’s wrong?”

Happy removed his hands to glare at Tony. “What’s wrong? What’s _wrong_?” he screeched, and Tony had to smirk at Happy’s face, which was slowly turning red. “You have a _kid_.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, his smirk becoming more of a confused smile because he was aware he was holding a kid in his arms, “I know.”

“And you don’t see what the problem with that is?” Happy sputtered, his voice loud, anger and confusion battling against each other for the role of the dominant emotion. “How much of a problem this is going to be?”

There was a problem, Tony had to admit that, but he thought the problem was more that Peter had somehow turned into a kid and less that Tony was holding a kid. As for how much of a problem this was going to be, Tony wasn’t sure about that part. Yes, it would be a problem if Tony couldn’t find a way to turn Peter back, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

(He was Tony Stark, after all – with time, he could figure out pretty much anything.)

For now, though, everything was just about fine – or, as fine as it could get, given the circumstances – and Tony was confused as to what Happy was getting so riled up about.

Peter made a sound in Tony’s arms, and he shifted the kid again. Tony waited in silence, firmly gesturing for Happy to shut up as well, until the line that had formed between Peter’s eyebrows smoothed out and he was quiet once more.

Tony had to do a double take when he looked back up to look at Happy’s face.

It looked like Happy was about to cry and yell and coo all at once, and it confused the hell out of Tony. Being confused was not something Tony enjoyed, and irritation flared up in his chest.

“Okay, Hogan,” Tony said, finally fed up with the other man’s weird behavior. “Lay it on me. What are you going on about?”

“ _You have a child, Tony._ ”

Tony was in the process of rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to shoot a snarky response when Happy’s words hit him, causing him to do the biggest double take he’d ever done in his life.

“What? No. No, this isn’t my kid,” Tony rushed out, heart thudding in his chest. “Well, I guess he kind of _is_ my kid, but he’s not, like, _my_ kid.”

Happy rubbed his temples. “You’re not making any sense.”

“Well, neither are you,” Tony defended. Happy started to speak again, but Tony shook his head and interrupted. “This is _Peter_ , Happy. Something happened to him.”

And, suddenly, Tony understood. Happy wouldn’t have immediately jumped to the conclusion that something had happened to Peter, and Tony hadn’t told him (he meant to, really, it was just – sometimes Tony forgot that other people didn’t have all the information or facts that he did and he usually forgot to catch them up to speed unless they outright asked).

Happy’s eyes widened in shock as his arms dropped from his face back down to his sides. “Peter?” he asked incredulously. “Like, _Parker_ Peter? _Spider-Kid_ Peter? The Peter I drive to and from school every day? _That_ Peter?”

“No, it’s another kid named Peter, because I know more than one Peter,” Tony snapped. After speaking he stopped and drew back a little bit. “ _Do_ I know more than one Peter?” he asked himself. After a few short seconds of thinking, Tony shook his head again. “I don’t know.”

Happy just stared, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“ _Yes_ , this is that Peter. And like I said, something happened to him and – Wait, did you seriously think that this kid was _my_ kid?”

Happy blinked. He was obviously confused by the sudden change in topic, but he went with it. “Well, _yeah_. He kind of –” He cut off and gestured towards Tony and Peter. When Tony raised an eyebrow, Happy sighed and explained. “He kind of looks like you, I guess. It was an easy assumption to make.”

That floored Tony. There was no way that Peter – even this younger version of Peter – looked like him. Tony couldn’t see any of his facial features in Peter, not that he’d ever explicitly looked, and they weren’t related. But, as Tony thought about it, gazing down at the child in his arms, he understood how someone else might think that upon first glance and without knowing it was Peter.

(That logic was trumped by the fact that Rhodey had thought that Teenager Peter had been Tony’s kid when he’d first met the fifteen-year-old and still did, even though it’d been some months, but Tony chose not to dwell on that.)

Tony let out a harsh sigh, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “He doesn’t look like me.” Happy looked surprised by the sharp tone of Tony’s voice, but he didn’t comment on it. “I need you to take me back to the Tower,” Tony went on, wincing as pain flared up in his arms. Even though Peter was light enough, holding him for as long as Tony had been holding him was taking its toll. “I have to run some tests. And call his aunt.”

At the mention of May, Happy’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told May yet?”

“I was a bit preoccupied,” Tony defended. “Besides, this could still be some random kid. I don’t know yet, which is why I have to run the tests.”

Happy shook his head but didn’t argue. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

He turned and opened the backseat car door. Tony climbed in as gracefully as he could manage without jostling Peter (Peter woke up for a brief moment, which goes to say how successful Tony was). Grabbing the Spider-Man suit, he tossed it to the seat closest to the opposite door.

Happy closed the door after them and hurried to the driver’s seat as Tony settled back and rearranged Peter’s limbs. The ache in his arms started to fully register now that they had a break from continuously holding Peter, and Tony stared down at Peter.

Peter was back to sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed. One hand fisted the collar of Tony’s shirt while the other laid on Tony’s chest. His legs rested on either side of Tony’s as he sat on Tony’s upper thighs, his cheek pressed against Tony’s chest.

The weight of Peter against him, while something that Tony had never experienced before, was somewhat comforting. Peter’s warmth seeped through Tony’s shirt, and Tony felt his exhaustion catch up with him.

“Tony,” Happy said from the front seat, causing Tony to jump a little as he hadn’t heard Happy get in the car.

“Happy.”

Happy’s jaw worked as he seemingly gathered his courage. Tony refrained from rolling his eyes, opening his mouth to speak instead. Right as the first sounds of, “Spit it out,” started to leave Tony’s mouth, Happy spoke up.

“I’m not telling Pepper.”

Tony froze.

He’d forgotten about Pepper. If Pepper was at the Tower, there was no way she wouldn’t find out about what Tony had deemed the Peter Fiasco, and Tony would have to explain what had happened. Not telling her at all was an option, but one that Tony immediately pushed away – if he didn’t tell Pepper and she found out, which she most definitely would, Tony would be heading to an early grave. Which was obviously something that he didn’t want.

But it was fine. Tony would confirm that the child curled into him was Peter, and then he’d give him to May. May had raised Peter once before, and Tony was more than sure she could do it again.

Thoughts of May caused Tony to let out a groan, as they reminded him that he still had to inform her regardless of whether or not the kid turned out to be Peter. If it wasn’t Peter, then Teenager Peter was missing, which was a problem that Tony still had to deal with.

That decided it – Tony was definitely going to die today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it kind of fizzled out towards the end there, but i couldn't figure out a way to fix it. i'm sure it'll change throughout the week tho, so i'm not too worried
> 
> clarification: tony still has the tower. i know him selling it is like a rly important thing in homecoming, so it still happens, but we're going to go around that. we'll be going around a lot of things in this. y'all will see.
> 
> feel free to provide any feedback and/or point out any mistakes :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony (basically) comforts a crying Peter and introduces Pepper and Rhodey to his intern-turned-baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. my life sucks rn, so i'm rly sorry if this is bad. i tried, though, and i guess that's what matters?? i'll probably come back to this chapter a lot over the next few days bc i'm not entirely happy with it but i have no idea how to fix it.
> 
> writer's block is an evil that needs to be eradicated from this world.

Leaning against the inside of the elevator, Peter cradled against his chest, Tony let out a tired sigh and studied the still sleeping child in his arms. The kid had stayed asleep for the entirety of the car ride back to the Tower, barely even stirring. It wasn’t exactly surprising, given the circumstances. After what had to have been a painful experience – if the ghosts of Peter’s screams and groans and sobs in Tony’s ears were anything to go by – Peter’s body must have defaulted to sleeping as an attempt to recover from the physical trauma it had undergone.

Tony felt something ugly unfurl in his chest as he remembered the call Karen had made to Tony and FRIDAY. It curled around his heart and squeezed until Tony could barely breathe, and he pushed the emotion away as best he could. Being emotional and dwelling on his feelings wasn't going to help anything – wasn't going to help _Peter_ – and Tony couldn't afford to be distracted.

The elevator doors opened onto Tony's personal floor, the lights staying off per Tony's request. He'd asked FRIDAY to keep the lights off, as he hadn't wanted Peter to wake up.

(He’d also instructed the AI to remain silent until addressed, as he didn’t need the added stress of all the things he had to do in regards to Stark Industries – amongst other things – on top of his current situation.)

Even though Tony wanted to draw blood and run tests and figure out the problem, he also wanted to let Peter sleep as much as possible. He didn't want to wake the kid up, not when it seemed like he needed the sleep. And, Tony didn't want to take Peter's blood unless he was awake and fully consenting and not in an exhausted state of half-awareness. Add in the fact that Peter was only two years old and that meant that Tony needed consent from a guardian before doing any blood work, which meant he needed to talk to May – which he couldn’t do for at least another six hours, as he doubted May, or Peter, for that matter, would appreciate being woken up at this ungodly hour of twelve forty-five in the morning – and Tony was suddenly well aware that his day was about to get much more complicated then he’d dreamed it would be.

The whole situation had the gears in Tony's mind turning as he stepped off the elevator. Peter, an enhanced fifteen-year-old from Queens, was now an enhanced much younger child from Queens. It shouldn't have been possible. But, apparently, it was, and Tony had the evidence in his arms to prove it. From a scientific point of view, Peter’s situation might have been a good one – scientific discoveries and breakthroughs and all that jazz – but from just about every other point of view, this was a bad thing. As of right then, it was irreversible, and there were still a lot of things that Tony didn’t know, like whether or not Peter would be affected by any negative long-term effects, or what exactly had caused Peter’s – previously impossible, mind you – transformation.

It was all one big mess that Tony had no idea how to fix, and, fuck, if that didn't hurt. Tony wasn't used to not being able to figure out a problem rather quickly – it had never been something that had happened all too often, and for it to be happening now, when Peter was involved, was not doing anything good for Tony's returning headache.

God, he desperately needed a cup of coffee, but FRIDAY had been instructed by Pepper to not allow him coffee at the early hours of the morning if he'd been without sleep for more than two days, an amount he'd already flown by a long time ago.

Cursing whatever demon that had caused Tony to allow Pepper to give directives that couldn’t be overridden by him unless his life was in immediate or future danger, Tony made his way through the dark to his bedroom, placing Peter down by the head of the bed and leaving him above the covers. Peter frowned for a second, his chubby face scrunching up, but he relaxed once again when Tony maneuvered one of the pillows into his arms. The kid sunk into the top half of the pillow, his limbs wrapping around it much like they had done to Tony earlier. Tony made sure that Peter didn't bury his face into the pillow, as he didn't want the kid accidentally suffocating himself, even if FRIDAY would've let him know long before that happened.

Watching a child sleep – in Tony's own bed, no less – was never something that Tony saw himself doing at any point in his life. Kids just… weren’t in the cards for him, and he wasn’t sure they ever would be. He and Pepper had talked about it, of course they had – _communication is a very important factor to a healthy and successful relationship, Tony, and we need to communicate with each other if this is going to work_ – but they’d both decided to wait. With Pepper essentially running Stark Industries, she didn't have a lot of time on her hands to raise a child, and Tony had wildly unhealthy living habits that he didn’t want to pass on to his kid. And he was in no way, shape or form making his kid grow up – the same way he had – in the care of a babysitter because his parents weren’t always around and didn’t have much time for him.

Tony let out another sigh and rubbed his face again before he moved out of his room, closing the door softly behind him and leaving Peter to sleep. He made his way to the couch and dropped himself down, throwing an arm across his eyes.

“Okay, FRI,” he said aloud. “Lay it on me.”

FRIDAY began listing off all of his outstanding commitments, as well as letting him know about any other important things. “You have three scheduled meetings coming up, the first one being in less than eight hours and labeled as _extremely important_ by Miss Potts.”

Oh. Right. Tony had forgotten about those. Damn him to hell.

"May Parker has sent you a text stating _Peter hasn’t come home yet. Is he with you? Is everything okay?_ with a timestamp of close to an hour and fifteen minutes ago.”

Of course May would’ve texted Tony the minute Peter had missed his curfew. He didn’t really blame her – Tony could recall many instances when he had practically lost his mind because Peter had gotten home late from patrol, and his worry had been well founded, as Peter had usually ended up with a few nasty bruises or, worse, a knife in his side. Tony shuddered as he shoved those thoughts away. Thinking of Peter getting hurt like that would only serve as a distraction, and Tony could not afford to be distracted right now. He would deal with the May situation after he had all of the facts and could formulate the basics of a plan.

“Colonel Rhodes has placed seven calls and has asked me to pass along three messages, one of which he has just finished recording.”

Huh. That one was honestly surprising. While Tony had been out of the Tower collecting Peter, before he had sent the suit away, he’d told FRIDAY to field his calls and answer them herself without letting Tony know, something that had obviously ended up worrying Rhodey. Rhodey didn’t usually call him _that_ many times unless something was wrong and Tony prayed that nothing was wrong; he did not have the mental capacity to deal with any disasters, not with the one that he was already in the middle of dealing with.

“Miss Potts has inquired about your whereabouts no less than sixteen times in the past hour. I told her upon each inquiry that you were not in the Tower. She has not requested to be informed of your return, so I have not done so as of yet.”

Okay. Okay, that was good. Tony had a lot of important stuff he had to do, but nothing too pressing. For the moment anyway – deep down, Tony knew that, as the minutes went by, improvisation would have to be utilized instead of the plan cooking in his brain. It was bound to happen at some point throughout the rest of the day. One way or another, any plan Tony came up with would most likely go to shit because… that was just what always happened. Tony was more than used to it.

“Alright, baby girl,” Tony said to FRIDAY, deciding to go through with his idea, as he removed his arm from over his eyes. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Send a text to May and tell her that I have Peter and he’s… fine, and that I’ll tell her more in the morning a couple of hours after Peter wakes up.” Hopefully, the fact that Peter was with Tony would lessen May’s worry, and it would give him time to run some tests when the kid was awake. “Tell Pepper that I’m back in the Tower, but don’t tell her why, I’ll do that myself. What are the messages from Rhodey about?”

Almost immediately after Tony finished speaking, Rhodey’s voice rang through the room, his words obviously pulled from the messages he’d left.

_“I’ve called you four times, Tony. Four times! What are you getting up to? Should I be worried? Yeah, I should definitely be worried. Call me as soon as you get this.”_

The message ended and Tony had to grin; he loved being on the receiving end of Rhodey’s mother hen instincts – it gave him endless teasing (and blackmail, but that was less important) material, and it caused a surge of warm feelings in his chest, feelings that he would never, ever, be admitting to.

The next message played.

_“Tones, I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but that does not mean you get to ignore my calls. FRIDAY took the liberty of telling me that you told her to field all of your calls, which either means you got yourself into some trouble and something is wrong, or… you got yourself into some trouble and something is wrong. You better call me back or I’m going to tell Pepper, and no, I’m not bluffing about that. I’m on my way to the Tower right now, and you better let me know you’re not dead before I get there or there’s going to be hell to pay, I promise you that.”_

Rhodey had started verging into the category of threats, something that was not new to Tony. It was kind of adorable, really, and it had Tony fighting down the warmth in his chest. He sent a glance up at the ceiling. “You told him I told you to field my calls?"

“You never said not to, Boss, and you did not exhibit any indication that I was not supposed to reveal any directives given to me. I apologise if I did something wrong."

"No, no, it's fine,” Tony assured. “I was just wondering. What's the next one?"

 _“You haven’t called me back, Tony. I swear on my_ life _that I’m going to kill you when I get to the Tower. Kill you. No, you know what, I’m going to get_ Pepper _to kill you. With her power shoes. Yeah, the really tall ones that intimidate you. Just - call me back, Tony.”_

“You heard the man, FRI,” Tony said with amusement and just the tiniest amount of fondness. “Call him.”

“Of course, Boss.”

The first ring had barely sounded before Rhodey’s voice was sounding throughout the room.

_“Tony! Please tell me you’re alive.”_

“Don’t worry, honeybear, I am alive and well. There’s just been a… slight issue.”

 _“What?”_ Tony heard the worry in Rhodey’s voice and winced – he probably could’ve worded that better. _“An_ issue _? What happened? What’s wrong? You’re not dying again, are you, because I honestly don’t think my heart could handle that, and you_ promised _to tell me if anything ever went wrong with anything ever again –”_

“Whoa there, platypus,” Tony interrupted, the smirk on his face seeming to be permanently etched onto his face. “Calm down. I’m fine, I’m not dying and I’m not bodily harmed or fatally injured.” Tony let the smirk fade away. “You remember that intern I was telling you about, the one you met that one time?”

While for the most part Tony avoided talking about his lab days and such with Rhodey, Peter had cropped up more and more in Tony’s conversations with Rhodey, and if Tony had sung Peter’s praises more often than not, well, it wasn’t like it was his fault. The kid was _extremely_ smart, one of the only people Tony had met that could keep up with him.

(And if that had Tony missing Bruce, nobody had to know.)

Peter being smart was endearing in and of itself, but Peter was just - endearing overall. There was something about the kid that had everything inside Tony screaming to praise him and support him and talk to him, and, oh, look, Tony was turning into an emotional sap, which he _could not stand for_ , so he quickly got his thought process off of Peter and turned back to the conversation at hand.

 _“Um, yeah,”_ Rhodey responded, his voice full of confusion. _“Super smart kid from Queens, right? Parker, his name was?”_

“Peter,” came Tony’s correction, not too upset about it, as he normally referred to Peter as _Parker_ when talking to Rhodey, “but yeah. There’s been an… incident, and I’m taking care of him for the time being.”

 _“Okay,”_ Rhodey said, drawing the word out. _“And that’s why you were out of the Tower?”_

“Yep.” Look at him, being all honest with Rhodey. Well, half-honest, technically – did failing to mention one very important part about _why_ Tony was taking care of his _super smart intern_ make Tony a liar?. Whatever – half-truths were better than straight-up lying, at least. “It’s probably best if you just, don’t come by the Tower right now. Maybe another time?”

Tony knew that Peter, had the kid been in the right mindset and not a child, would be embarrassed to be meeting _the_ Colonel Rhodes as a practical baby. Peter was big on hero worship, Tony knew that, but he’d soon learned that it extended to more than Tony; the kid was enamored with Rhodey (Peter had almost fainted when he’d met the man) and Pepper and Natasha and Steve and pretty much every single person from the original Avengers team. Except, now that Tony thought about it, Peter had been bringing up Steve and Natasha less and less – maybe that was because Tony couldn’t stop the way his face darkened every time one of the Rogue Avengers were mentioned and Peter had caught on.

(The thought about the Rogues had something in the back of Tony’s mind sparking, and he remembered that he had something to do with them, some meetings to sit through, but it was just out of his reach, and Tony had way bigger things to focus on anyway.)

Peter _had_ been mysteriously perceptive about Tony and his feelings lately, ever since he’d turned down Tony’s offer to join the Avengers. Tony wasn’t sure how that worked, though, because he was definitely _not_ joking about Peter becoming an official Avenger – not that he would ever tell Peter that, no, it wasn’t just a test – and Peter hadn’t caught on to that, and yet he'd mastered seeing past Tony’s well-fortified emotional walls and defenses in the span of a few weeks.

When Tony had first met Peter, he’d thought the kid was pretty straightforward, and he was now learning that Peter was, in fact, more complicated of a person than Tony himself was.

 _“No can do,”_ Rhodey said, drawing Tony back into the conversation his whirling mind had abandoned. _“I’m less than five minutes away, and there’s no way in_ hell _that I’m turning back. My suit needs some fixing up anyway, so, really, it’s the best thing for everyone involved.”_

Tony doubted that would be true for Peter, but Rhodey was hard to sway once he’d made a decision, so he also doubted there was anything to be done about it.

 _"Besides,”_ Rhodey continued, _“I’m very interested in meeting the high-school aged intern you_ personally _hired because he was_ just that smart. _I’ll see you in five, Tony.”_

Rhodey ended the call.

It was a good thing Peter was sleeping at that moment, because Tony was confident that the kid did not want to be awake when Rhodey got here.

“This is fine,” Tony told himself in a monotone voice as he sat up on the couch, staring straight ahead, because it was totally, absolutely _fine_.

“Miss Potts is on her way up, Boss.”

Tony leapt off the couch. “Shit. Fuck - shit, okay. This is less fine.” Pepper was on her way up and Rhodey was less than five minutes away and Peter was still sleeping and – Oh, listen; that was the sound of his plan going to shit. “But I got this. Okay. FRI?” he asked, shaking out his hands. “How did she seem?”

FRIDAY paused for a few seconds before answering. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean. I can scan her for physical injuries or abnormalities –”

“No, not like that,” Tony interrupted. “Like,” Tony’s hands flailed wildly in front of him as he started pacing back and forth along the length of the couch, electricity flying through his veins, “how did she seem? Emotionally. How do you think she’s feeling?”

FRIDAY, for all her wonderful skills, sometimes had trouble with emotion. She had been learning, she’d already learned quite a bit from when she was first started, but she was nowhere near the level that JARVIS had been at. Tony loved her, he did, but she made him miss JARVIS even more, especially when he said something and had to clarify what he meant. But, like he said, she was learning, and that was all that Tony could ask of her.

“She seems to be... irritated, Boss, but nothing looks overly concerning.”

“...Do you think she’ll try to kill me as soon as she sees me?”

Tony chewed on the index finger of his right hand, trying to stave off his rising anxiety.

He’d hoped for Pepper to stop by earlier and for Rhodey to come by later, but Pepper was on her way and so was Rhodey and his explanations for the both of them that he’d hoped would be separate would instead overlap. It wasn’t like Tony had planned to _lie_ or change his story depending on who he was talking to, it was just that Pepper had certain things she needed to hear, to be reassured of, and Rhodey had things that were completely different.

This was a complete nightmare.

“I do not believe she will, no. At most, Miss Potts may resign to utilizing her, as stated by you, _patented death glare_ , but I think that everything will run relatively smoothly.”

The words provided Tony with a small amount of comfort, and he shot a fond glance up at the ceiling. “Thanks, FRI.”

“Anytime, Boss.”

The elevator dinged and Pepper stepped out, dressed in a tailored business suit, her heels clicking on the floor and sounding threatening as all hell. Tony met her eyes nervously, gulping when he saw the flash of irritation there, and forced a smile on his face as he moved to meet her.

“Pep!” he said, trying to infuse his voice with charisma and confidence and not sound like he was shaking. “Hi, honey, how was your day?”

“Fine,” she said curtly. She softened slightly when Tony brushed a kiss against her cheek, something Tony saw as a sign that there was a chance she might not kill him after all. “Majorly uneventful, just a lot of paperwork that should've been handled days ago and a lot more meetings. How was yours?”

There was a hidden question behind the one she’d asked, the both of them knew it, but Tony chose to push the inevitable a little further down the line.

“Fine,” he echoed her words. When she didn’t speak after that, he decided to try one last tactic. “You look –”

Ah. And there was the glare.

Tony quickly stopped his previous line of speech and moved on to what he needed to tell her. “That’s not important right now. What’s important right now is that I tell you where I was and why I was out of the Tower.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow, a silent gesture for Tony to continue speaking. Just as he opened his mouth to do so, Rhodey landed outside in the suit. The relief at not having to tell Pepper just yet was quickly outshined by the realisation that he would have to tell both Pepper _and_ Rhodey, and he didn’t think he was quite that ready to face their looks of disbelief or anger or frustration or anything else.

(God, he was such a coward.)

Rhodey walked in a few seconds later, not looking all that surprised to see Pepper there. He walked over to Pepper’s side and crossed his arms, shooting Tony a look that screamed _explain_.

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. You two are a bunch of worrywarts, I’m not dead.”

Pepper’s glare came back and Tony immediately started talking.

“My intern got turned into a child and I had to go and pick him up because he was doing something that his aunt, his only guardian, doesn’t know about, and then I brought him back here and hung out for a few minutes, and that’s why I was gone from the Tower and not responding to any of your calls.”

Tony finished with a slight shrug of his shoulders and resisted the urge to fidget as Pepper and Rhodey gave him equally disbelieving looks.

“Did you hit your head, Tones?” Rhodey finally asked, and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Pretty sure I didn’t, no.” When all Pepper and Rhodey did was stare at him, Tony threw his arms up. “You don’t believe me.” He turned sharply on his heels to walk back to the couch and sat down heavily upon it, raising his legs to rest them on the table in front of him and crossing his feet at the ankles.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, Tony,” Pepper told him, moving to sit in an armchair across from him, “it’s just - your story seems a bit... _outlandish_.”

“FRIDAY?” Tony said, staring intently at Pepper as Rhodey sat down in the armchair next to her.

“Boss is telling the truth, Miss Potts. He left the Tower to collect his intern who had been in an altercation and had subsequently transformed into a child of approximately 24 months.”

Huh. Tony had suspected that Peter was around two years old, but he hadn’t been completely sure.

Rhodey and Pepper both seemed to accept FRIDAY's words, but Rhodey furrowed his eyebrows soon after. “What was your teenage intern doing out that late at night? And how did he get turned into a kid? And what do you plan on doing with said kid?”

“The kid will tell you what he was doing when he wakes up. If he wants to,” he added with a stern glance at Rhodey. No way was Tony exposing Peter’s secret like that if the kid didn’t want it told. Tony continued after Rhodey nodded his assent. “I’m going to run some tests when he wakes up because I don’t know how it happened, only that it did, and I’m going to call May, his aunt, after we get finished here.”

His answer to Rhodey’s final question had him wincing – just because neither Rhodey nor Pepper had killed him didn’t mean May wasn’t going to.

(Was it weird if the thought of May’s wrath was scaring him as much as it was? Probably. Didn’t mean Tony was any less terrified.)

Pepper settled back in her chair while Rhodey rubbed a hand down his face.

“Boss? It appears Peter is waking up. He seems to be confused and entering a state of distress.”

Tony blew out a harsh sigh. Why couldn’t Peter have stayed asleep any longer?

Rhodey perked up. “He’s awake? Can we see him?”

Tony shot him a weird look. “Why?” he asked slowly, genuinely confused at his best friend’s eagerness to meet Peter.

But Rhodey only gave a shrug. “Just thought I’d meet the kid that caused you to go offline for as long as you did.

Tony glanced at Pepper, who hadn’t spoken as much as he’d thought she would. The glare seemed to have been put away, thank God, and she stared back at Tony with a curious look in her eyes.

Tony took that as a green light to go ahead and bring Peter out here. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t be too disoriented by meeting two of his idols – he didn’t know how Peter would deal with the situation.

Walking towards his bedroom, Tony deliberated on how to proceed. If Peter was getting upset, that most likely meant that Tony would need to do something to calm the kid down and Tony had no idea how to do that. The most experience he’d had with kids was signing their action figures and their napkins and their posters. Sure, he’d talked to some of them, made them smile and laugh and giggle, and, sure, that had always flooded the cavern that sat in his chest with warmth, but it didn’t _mean_ anything. It didn’t mean that Tony had any idea how to take care of a child.

He needed to explain what was happening to Peter, that much he knew. The question was _how_ he was going to tell Peter that he had been turned into a child. And, he also needed to figure out how he would break the news to May that her nephew had been reverted back to his younger self.

A couple of months ago, before Ross and the Accords and the bunker with Steve, Tony wouldn’t have seen himself doing this, dropping practically everything to help out a kid he had no business knowing in the first place, a kid he had supplied with a million-dollar suit, a kid that slept over at his Tower and worked down in his personal lab with Tony and did a whole lot of other things that Tony _should’ve_ had a problem with but, surprisingly, didn’t. The whole thing with Peter was weird, had always been weird, and now it was coming back to bite Tony in the ass because he didn’t know what to _do_.

(Tony wouldn’t change it for anything, though, even if it did mean dealing with Peter as a little kid.)

Tony opened the door to his bedroom and cautiously peered inside, his heart dropping at the sight in front of him.

Little Peter was sitting up on the bed, his knees hugged to his chest and his face buried in his arms, and Tony could’ve sworn that he saw Peter’s body shaking slightly with soft, barely audible, sobs.

Oh, God, _tears_. Tony did not do well with tears – not even his own, when they made a rare appearance.

Tony took soft and careful steps closer towards the bed until he was right beside it, Peter not hearing him, apparently, because the kid never even looked up. Or, maybe Peter _did_ hear Tony walking closer and was just choosing not to acknowledge him – the worst option out of the two. Tony couldn’t bear the thought of Peter not wanting him around – hated to even think about the kid deciding, one day, that Tony just wasn’t good enough and leaving, as so many others had done to him before – and he struggled to push away his feelings.

“Pete?” Tony choked out, his voice coming out strangled through all the stress and _emotion_ sitting heavy in his chest – Peter was so _small_ and precious and fragile-looking – and he had to clear his throat before he spoke again, taking the time to make sure his voice was as soft and as comforting as he could get it. “Kid?”

Peter looked up, and Tony had to swallow at the tear tracks running down the kid’s face. As Tony attempted to push a smile on his face, the amount of tears in Peter’s eyes tripled, and Tony couldn’t stop himself from panicking and falling into a pit of self-hatred because, _fuck_ , he was already messing whatever this was up. How, Tony didn’t know, but it was obvious the kid was upset and the only person he’d interacted with as a child before falling asleep was Tony and maybe FRIDAY.

Out of nowhere, Peter threw himself at Tony, crying out, “Tony!” Throwing his arms around the man and gripping the back of his suit, Peter buried his face into Tony’s chest, his sobs strengthening. Tony stumbled back a bit, barely catching himself, everything in him tightening to the point of pain.

Unannounced physical contact. Not fun, even if it was coming from an innocent child who probably didn’t know any better.

Tony’s hands hovered over Peter’s back. He briefly wondered if he should hug the kid back, but he decided against it – Peter was more than capable of not letting himself fall.

“Uh… hi, kid,” Tony said, mentally hitting himself in the face. That was _totally_ the right thing to say to a crying child. Letting out a soft sigh, his chest moving up and down and moving Peter with it, Tony tried to continue because he really couldn’t make it worse. “Peter, buddy, Underoos. Is– Are you– What’s wrong?”

Oh, would you look at that – he made it worse.

“Look, Peter, I know this is all really weird and stressful for you,” God knows Tony would’ve been freaking out, too, if he was in Peter’s shoes, “but you gotta calm down and stop crying.”

Peter shook his head against Tony’s shirt. Snot and tears were most likely smeared all over his shirt, and Tony tried his absolute best to stop his lip from curling in disgust.

It’s okay, Tony thought to himself. It’s disgusting but it’s a kid thing, and it’s _fine_.

“Okay, well… Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

Tony watched as Peter slowly lifted his head, his tearful eyes staring back at Tony’s and his sobs partially dying out. Peter’s lower lip wobbled as he gave Tony the most serious look a crying kid could give, and said, “Pwease don’t ‘ake the sui’.”

“What?” Tony asked, because, honestly, Peter was hard enough to understand _without_ the tears wrapped around his words. “Don’t take your suit?” Peter nodded – it looked like the kid had troubles with his _t_ sound – and Tony felt his eyebrows furrow as confusion washed away the other feelings in his throat and chest and every other part of his body. “Why would I take your suit, kid?”

“‘Cause I messed up!” Peter wailed, his sobs returning with a vengeance, and he buried his head back against Tony’s chest to muffle them.

Guilt, dark and thick, shot its way through Tony’s heart. Peter was scared that his suit would get taken away because Tony had taken it away before. Tony regretted doing that, regretted taking Peter’s suit away – because Peter went on to fight Toomes without it and could’ve _died_ , and that had been Tony’s fault – and he regretted it even more as he saw Peter crying against him.

Peter thought that his suit was going to get taken away, _again_ , for something that wasn’t even his fault, something that he probably had no control over, and that cut right through Tony.

He’d been silent for way too long, Tony knew that, so he cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times before he said, “You didn’t mess up, kid.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as emotional and rough to Peter as much as it did to him. “You didn’t,” Tony insisted when all Peter did was shake his head against Tony’s chest once more, because he _needed_ the kid to know that he was _never_ going to take the suit away when the situation didn’t absolutely demand for it. “You didn’t. What you _did_ do was your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for. It’s all _I_ can ask for. Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m not going to take the suit away.”

And maybe that was what Peter needed to hear, because he sniffled again and lifted his head to look at Tony. He didn’t say anything, only nodded to himself before removing his hands from around Tony. Tony, in a moment of panic that he’d deny ever happened, quickly moved his arms around Peter and held him, his hands spanning most of Peter’s back. His heart beating in his chest, he watched on as Peter wiped his tears away, his little chest expanding as he breathed deeply and calmly all the while.

They stood there, Tony holding Peter, for a little while until Peter fully calmed down, his tears slowing to a stop.

Peter looked up at Tony, cheeks red in embarrassment – most likely because he was crying – and said, “T’ank you, Mis’er S’ark.”

Tony noted that Peter’s eyes seemed to be a bit more focused than they had been when he’d entered the room. _Older_ , maybe, which was a more fitting word anyway.

“Pete?” Tony asked, an idea sparking in his mind. “Do you know how old you are?”

Peter tilted his head in bemusement. “Fif’ee. Nuh. Fif’eenuh.”

“Fifteen?” Tony repeated back to Peter, just to be sure.

His mind started racing when Peter nodded. Peter had retained most of his teenage self, if he could remember how old he was, and how Tony had taken the suit away from him, and who Tony was in the first place. Tony guessed that, while Peter’s physical body had turned back the clock, the kid’s mind hadn’t suffered any immediate effects. That opened up a whole new bunch of questions, questions that Tony had no time to answer because the door to the bedroom was opening and Rhodey was walking through.

Tony turned towards the other man just as he spoke. “Tones? Everything okay?” Rhodey stopped short, just inside the door, his eyes locked on Peter.

Peter stared back, his cheeks slowly turning more and more red. He obviously recognized the man, to some degree, at least. Tony turned Peter around in his arms so the kid’s back was to his chest, and Rhodey made a small sound.

Clearing his throat, Rhodey took a step forward, holding out a hand. “Hi, Peter. I’m Rhodey.”

Peter, to his credit, didn’t pass out or start rambling or do anything even mildly embarrassing – a shame, really; Tony could’ve used it as blackmail material in the future, for the next time the kid decided to tease him – he merely stuck out his own (smaller) hand and shook Rhodey’s without saying anything.

It was kind of adorable.

Like someone had told a joke – which no one had – Peter started giggling, and Tony _knew_ that Rhodey was turning into a puddle of goo, the sound of Peter’s laugh was _that_ precious.

It’s a good thing Tony was immune to all cute and even mildly emotionally stirring actions because – Nope, that laugh was the cutest thing Tony had ever heard and he could feel his heart melting in his chest.

Rhodey beamed as Peter reached out to him, both hands making grabby motions and his legs kicking softly. The man came closer and Peter’s hands were resting on his cheeks. Close enough to see it, Tony noted that Rhodey’s eyes were soft and full of an emotion that was usually only reserved for Tony himself: fondness.

It had been a grand total of less than forty-five seconds, and Rhodey was already _fond_ of baby Peter.

God help him.

Tony zoned back into the situation, not quite sure when he’d zoned out, to the sound of Rhodey’s voice as he cooed and made faces at Peter. He almost questioned it – a member of the United States military, _cooing_ at a child – but then he heard Peter giggle again. Rhodey just wanted to make the kid laugh, something Tony understood, as he felt like he could listen to Peter’s laugh all day.

Seeing as how Rhodey was majorly preoccupied, Tony sighed and determined that the man didn’t plan on leaving the room – or on stopping his interaction with Peter – any time soon.

“FRIDAY, can you tell Pep to come in here?”

“Of course, Boss.”

After a couple of seconds of Tony sitting through Rhodey’s successful attempts at getting Peter to keep laughing, Pepper walked into the bedroom. She seemed surprised at the state of Rhodey, but then she registered Peter’s laugh. Tony watched as a smile grew on her face and she made her way to stand by Rhodey.

She was grinning by the time she reached them.

“Well. Aren’t you just the cutest little thing.”

That captured Peter’s attention, and he transferred his grip on Rhodey’s face to Pepper. He wrapped one small hand around one of Pepper’s slender fingers, and the other grabbed onto her cheek. Patting her face, Peter giggled again, like he’d heard the funniest joke in the world.

Pepper’s smile turned into a grin, the biggest one Tony had ever seen on her face, and Tony saw the way she transformed, her powerful and commanding demeanor turning into something softer and sweeter, her edges becoming less sharp as she gazed into Peter’s eyes. Her eyes quickly flicked up to meet Tony’s, her smile briefly dimming as her eyes filled with something akin to suspicion before she looked back down at the adorable child in his arms.

“I want to keep him,” Rhodey declared as he straightened back up.

Tony choked on an inhale and stared at his friend with wide eyes. “You - you want to _what?_ ”

“Keep him,” Rhodey repeated firmly. “Until you figure out whatever’s wrong.”

“What?” Tony shook his head, but whether it was out of denial or disbelief was unclear. “No. He’s going with his aunt.”

Rhodey pouted – which caught Tony by surprise, because he’d never _once_ seen Rhodey pout before – and reached around Pepper to grab Peter out of Tony’s arms, which caused the kid to relinquish his grip on Pepper. As soon as Peter realised he was in Rhodey’s arms he started babbling nonsense to himself, or to the group, Tony didn’t know, and put both of his hands on Rhodey’s head.

“But, look at him,” Rhodey insisted, and Tony narrowed his eyes in response. “He’s the cutest thing ever.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed easily, because Peter was the cutest thing ever. “But he also needs to be with his _family_ , and with someone who knows how to take care of him, and that’s his aunt.”

Peter stopped touching Rhodey’s head and wiggled around in the man’s arms until he was looking at Tony. “May?”

“Yep,” Tony said, nodding. “Your aunt May. I’m going to call her a little later, and then you can go home with her.”

(Tony ignored the voice in his head that said maybe Peter could stay here, in the Tower, with him, because that voice was a sappy little shit and not one that Tony liked to rely on – almost every time he listened to it, he, or others, or both, got emotionally wounded and he really didn’t want or need that at the moment.)

Peter pouted, but Tony didn’t see it, too preoccupied with eyeing the way Rhodey was looking like he’d kill Tony if it meant Peter staying could’ve been an option.

“FRI, what time is it?” Tony asked, keeping a wary eye on Rhodey.

“It is currently two fourteen in the morning, Boss.”

Tony nodded to himself. “Well,” he clapped his hands together, something warm settling in the pit of his stomach at the way Peter smiled and reached out for Tony’s hands from Rhodey’s arms, “I don’t know much about kids, but I do know that this one needs to get his sleep for the rest of the day tomorrow. So,” he continued, reaching out for Peter and ignoring the way the warmth in his stomach spread up to his chest (he was ignoring a lot of things today, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t all that healthy, but when was anything he did even _mildly_ healthy) when the kid practically threw himself into Tony’s arms, “platypus, why don’t you go down to your floor or one of the guest bedrooms, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

As Tony settled Peter on his hip, Rhodey frowned. He seemed disappointed, but he relented in the end, holding his hand to Peter for a fist bump. Peter returned it with enthusiasm and a bright smile, and Rhodey grinned back. “Night, little man.”

Oh, _joy_ , already moving into the nickname stage. Rhodey got attached to children much too quickly. Then again, so did Tony, no matter how much he denied it. Kids were pure of the fallacies of adults, and they were innocent and saw the good in the world, and Tony had always found that to be a nice change from the socialites and other figures of authority he was surrounded by on a daily basis.

“Nigh’,” came Peter’s response, and Tony could barely stop himself from letting out a sound of adoration because the way Peter said it was, dare he say it, _cute_. Rhodey wasn’t so lucky however, unable to keep the warm look off of his face. The man quickly wiped it away and replaced it with a glare when he saw Tony smirking at him.

“Not a word, Tony,” Rhodey warned, his fingers twitching at his side like he wanted to raise his hand and point one. “Not one. I swear, sometimes I wonder why I tolerate you,” he muttered under his breath when Tony let out a delighted laugh, one that doubled in volume once he heard what Rhodey said.

“You love me,” Tony said, confident and sure of himself, the words light and full of laughter.

Rhodey rolled his eyes, a bit aggressively, but didn’t deny it, which was exactly what Tony had expected him to do.

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Rhodey said to the woman at his side. He grabbed her shoulder and squeezed softly. “Good luck with that idiot boyfriend of yours.” Shooting a look at Tony, his lips quirking into a smile at the glare he was receiving, Rhodey turned and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Pepper, with a smile, reached for Peter. She was delighted when he didn’t put up a fight and went into her arms easily. “Peter,” she began, stopping briefly to grin at him when he focused on her face, “my name is Pepper. Are you potty-trained?”

Tony saw the way Peter’s body tensed up, losing the care-free aura that came with children.

“Don’t know,” Peter said, the words stilted, like he was trying too hard to force them out.

He buried his face into Pepper’s shoulders, probably embarrassed, but all Pepper did was look at Tony. “We don’t have any diapers, and I really don’t want him to have an accident on the bed. You’ll have to stay up with him and not let him fall asleep until FRIDAY can order some.”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “Me? Why do I have to stay up?”

“Because I have a lot of meetings to sit through tomorrow. A lot more than you,” she added when Tony opened his mouth. Giving a short and pleased nod when Tony pressed his lips together to refrain from speaking, she continued. “And it was your idea to bring him here, so you need to take care of him.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed, because Pepper, like always, was right. “But can’t he just, I don’t know, sleep on the floor? It’s clean.”

“Tony,” she said slowly, but not _I’m being patient_ slowly, more like _you’re an idiot and I can’t believe I have to explain this to you_ slowly, a tone that only Pepper (but maybe Natasha) could pull off, “he’s a child. It’s not good for him to be sleeping on the floor like that. Just, play with him. Give him a tablet, find some games for him, and play with him. And order some diapers.”

With that, she lifted Peter’s head from her shoulder, booped him on the nose with the pad of her finger, and handed him back over to Tony. He struggled at first, still not used to holding Peter like he was, but got settled relatively quickly.

Pepper turned away to go into the bathroom, and Tony sighed. You didn’t argue with Pepper.

Fine. He could do this. Losing a little more sleep wasn’t going to hurt him, even if he did have to sit through two (or was it three?) meetings tomorrow. Or, today, rather.

“Okay, kid,” Tony said to Peter, resisting the urge to wince as his skin was pinched in between Peter’s fingers as his tiny fist gripped the collar of Tony’s shirt, an action that Tony was starting to believe was going to become A Thing. “Let’s go find you a tablet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea how long this is going to be. i thought that Tony would've had that talk with May by now, but it hasn't happened, and instead there's 15,000+ words of i don't even know what. at this point, i'm just going with the flow and off of my very rough outline.
> 
> also, i have no idea how young kids, especially kids as young as Peter is in this, talk. i did a lot of research, but all of the articles i read repeatedly stated that the vocabulary and progression of speech, potty training, et cetera, vary from child to child. i tried to keep it as realistic as possible, i did, but then i factored in the fact that Peter is essentially a fifteen-year-old in the body of a two-year-old and that there would probably be quite a bit of mental overlaps and - it just got complicated. if i've failed to adequately explain anything, please let me know and i'll try to go back and fix it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony struggles to keep Peter occupied for less than an hour; he wonders just how he's supposed to do it for three more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo guys, it's been a long while, i'm so sorry for disappearing for ~3 months. life just got really stressful. but i did manage to outline about half of this story, so updates should be more frequent from here on out.
> 
> i also added a few details to the last chapter to make this one fit better. it's nothing big, i think you can infer what some of the changes were based off this chapter, but i would still go back and read like the last half of the previous chapter just in case.
> 
> **there are mentions of Civil War and its fallout in this chapter. i personally only saw the movie like 3 times bc it makes me sad, so please let me know if at any point i got any information wrong. i did warn about Slight Anti Team Cap in the tags, so Tony's view of things is supposed to be a little biased. no arguments about it please**

Not soon after Tony took Peter out of his bedroom to let Pepper sleep, he discovered that, even as a two-year-old, Peter had tons of energy. He was practically bouncing where he sat on the other end of the couch and Tony wasn’t sure if Peter was even _saying_ anything because it all sounded like pointless babbling and random sounds to his ears. He didn’t know if Peter was even _aware_ that he was talking because, for the most part, he seemed very focused on the tablet in his hands.

It had only been less than half an hour since Tony left his bedroom, and he could tell that time was only going to pass slower from here on out. He was practically bored out of his mind sitting here and watching Peter work, but it needed to be put out of the way so Tony could determine how to proceed with all of this.

In an effort to explore how much of Peter’s fifteen-year-old brain had been retained and was still at work – and to keep the kid awake because he was _not_ dealing with the inevitable potty incident that would occur, not until the diapers he’d ordered before he’d given Peter the tablet arrived – Tony had FRIDAY display various things that Peter usually had no problem doing. It had taken a while for Peter to warm up to using the tablet – it had looked like Peter was having trouble using his now smaller fingers – but he seemed to be faring well enough after getting used to it.

At the moment, Peter was doing well, not making even one mistake. The only problem was that the kid’s attention span was _seriously_ diminished, and that was saying something because Peter’s normal attention span was already extremely low. Like, as low as a goldfish's low (was that a thing?). As it were, he could only make it through about half of a problem before he turned to Tony and started waving his hands around and talked like he was going to die tomorrow.

Tony had no idea what to do when that happened, so he just went along with it for a few seconds before he tried to gently guide Peter’s attention back to the problem he was supposed to be working on. It worked, in a general sense, in that Peter ended up finishing the problem and getting the correct answer, but Tony could see that Peter was - losing some of his excitability. After a while of Tony using that method to get Peter to work, Peter pouted and stared down at the tablet, not even attempting to continue.

He was a little slow to realize what that meant, but, soon enough, Tony asked Peter, “You done, kid?”

Peter’s head snapped up to look at Tony, his eyes wide, like he wasn’t expecting Tony to notice. Which was weird because Tony had always noticed those sorts of things about Peter – there were always signs and slight cues as a guide to the kid's behavior. Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so in sync with someone that wasn’t Pepper or Rhodey or Happy. Or the rest of the Avengers, but Tony would prefer not to go there.

“Um..” Peter trailed off, shooting a glance down at the tablet. He seemed hesitant, and Tony figured that he didn’t want him to know that it was getting boring or whatever. Tony wasn’t surprised; Peter did that frequently and without fail, usually whenever Tony asked him to do something that quickly got boring after a period of time. “No?”

Tony fought against the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes Peter refused to let Tony know when he didn’t want to do something, and, while endearing, it was frustrating. Especially now, when Tony didn’t want to wear out whatever small bit of Teenager Peter that was left.

“It’s fine if you are, Peter,” Tony said, performing a great feat by keeping a strong hold of his patience. “We can go watch TV or something.” A smile grew on Peter’s lips and he perked up when TV was mentioned, and Tony just barely reined in the urge to give a smile of his own. “So, you done?”

This time when the question was asked, Peter nodded eagerly, and Tony reviewed his options. They could watch TV where they were, but that was out because he didn’t want to wake Pepper up. They could go to a guest floor, but Rhodey was on one of them, and Tony didn’t particularly feel like spending his night on a guest floor – all of the things he liked to have around weren’t there, and the guest floors felt too impersonal.

His only option – his only option worth considering – was to go down to the good old communal floor.

Gag.

Tony really didn’t want to do that, but he had to keep Peter awake, and the stimulation from the TV would help a good amount.

(Actually, wasn’t it bad to keep children awake for that long? Didn’t they get - cranky or something? Was keeping Peter awake really the best course of action?)

Fighting off the thoughts that started to rise in his mind as he thought about the communal floor and why, exactly, he hadn’t cleared it out and gotten it remodeled, Tony told Peter, “Alright then, let’s go,” and stood up from the couch. He was halfway across the room and heading towards the elevator before he realized that he wasn’t hearing any footsteps behind him, meaning that Peter hadn’t moved.

Tony turned back around and saw Peter struggling to get off the couch. The kid had placed the tablet to the side of him and rolled over onto his stomach, and was now attempting to slide off the front of the couch. In all honesty, it was kind of amusing to see Peter like that – and really cute – but Tony felt a different emotion flare up in his chest. Like - fear, almost? Or worry. Yeah, worry was a better word for it.

He wasn’t worried about _Peter_ , of course not, he just – It looked like he was going to hurt himself, and Tony couldn’t _not_ do something about that.

Wincing at what he was about to do, Tony walked over to Peter, who was still in the process of trying to slide down to the floor, and picked him up. As soon as Tony was holding Peter out at arm’s length he realized what a bad idea picking the kid up was. His first instinct was to pull the kid close to his chest, but that felt too _personal_ and Tony wasn't sure he could handle that at the moment. Then came the idea of putting Peter on his hip like he'd seen other people with their children doing, but Tony’s hips had been acting up lately – getting old sucked – and he wasn’t sure that he could carry Peter all the way down to the communal floor without unnecessary strain on his part.

So he just put Peter down on the floor. Though there was some wobbling and shakiness, Peter didn’t immediately fall over, so Tony took that as a good sign and turned to walk to the elevator, expecting Peter to follow. He assumed that two-year-olds could walk – he was pretty sure that children started walking around that age anyway – so he was confident that Peter would be fine. And, at first, he was fine. Tony was almost to the elevator, and he could hear Peter’s pattering footsteps behind him.

But then he heard a thump, and then an _oof_ sound. Followed by sniffling.

Tony cursed his luck.

With a sigh, he turned around to see Peter laying face down on the floor. The kid's back was heaving and Tony could hear his breath hitching, and he knew that he needed to diffuse the situation before it got even more out of hand.

Tony searched his brain for anything that would help. He remembered a day where he saw a woman with a little girl on the sidewalk. The little girl had been jumping over the cracks in the concrete while holding on to the woman's hand, and she'd fallen to the ground. She started sniffling, and the woman had immediately stopped, pulled the girl into her arms, and began to check for any bruises or whatever.

It seemed simple enough, in principle. Tony could do all of that no problem. Maybe with some problems. Or a lot. He didn't really know, to be honest – while kids did like him, to an extent, Tony was terrible at taking care of them. Tony taking care of a child was a disaster waiting to happen.

But, he only needed to get through the next few hours and keep both him and Peter alive so he could call May and she would take Peter off his hands. Boom, a solution to Tony's problem just like that.

So, with another sigh because he was dramatic like that, Tony walked back over to Peter and picked him up, resting him on the hip that was likely to bear the kid's weight easier.

Luckily for the both of them, Tony was well-practiced in the art of comforting a distressed Peter. Peter usually got upset over little things that he thought were big – like accidentally drinking all of the juice in the fridge down in the lab, or not being able to come over to the Tower on a predetermined lab day – and that was practically the same thing that was happening now, so. The skills and tactics and methods of approach had to be at least relatively the same, right?

As soon as Peter got back to normal, Tony was going to kill him. All this guesswork was doing serious things to Tony's brain.

Tony examined Peter’s face as best he could, checking for any bruises and moving on to check his knees and legs when nothing popped out. Peter’s face was red, but Tony attributed that to embarrassment and moved on. Except Peter wasn’t moving on.

He lifted small hands to cover his eyes, and Tony watched as his lower lip began to wobble. A sense of disaster took root in Tony’s chest, and he frantically searched his mind for something he could do.

And then it hit him. If Peter was upset about the fact that he fell over, then all Tony had to do was remind him that he’d fallen over in front of Tony multiple times as a teenager, and if it wasn’t a problem then, it wasn’t a problem now.

It sounded simple enough in theory, but in actuality it was an entirely different story. Mostly because Tony wasn’t really clear on how, exactly, he was supposed to go about saying that. Just come out and say it, or lead up to it?

Well, Tony was nothing if not concise and a to the point kind of guy, so. It looked like just coming out and saying it was the option he was going to go with.

“Hey,” he said, immediately wincing at the harsh tone of his voice. He’d been aiming for something soft and comforting, but Tony didn’t think he was a soft and comforting person, and he also didn’t think that he had the capacity to be one. Nevertheless, Peter was still hiding his face, and Tony didn’t want to be faced with a meltdown that he knew how to handle even less than the situation he was dealing with at present, so Tony cleared his throat and tried again.

“Peter,” he started, internally grinning because his voice sounded much better in terms of comforting a small child. “Hey, it’s fine, you’re okay.”

Tony had been prepared to leap into a whole list of facts for why it was okay, but then Peter was peeking out from behind his hands and Tony felt everything inside him softening like butter in a microwave. Okay, weird analogy, but Tony was hungry, he hadn’t eaten in - however long it had been. His visible eye looked shiny, like he was on the verge of tears, and Tony had to mentally pat himself on the back for a crisis well averted.

“’S okay?” Peter asked, and Tony did not melt at the soft sound of Peter’s voice, no matter what anyone said.

“Yeah, kid, it’s okay. You remember that time you slid into the lab in just your socks and you ran into the wall? Was it okay then?”

Peter fully moved his hands away then, and Tony found a smile growing on his face at the sight of the pout Peter was sporting. “No,” Peter said petulantly. “You laughed at me. Meanie.”

True.

“Well, I’m not laughing now, right?” Tony pressed as he fought the urge to laugh – he had a feeling that Peter would take Tony’s laughter the wrong way and he didn’t want that to happen.

Shaking his head, Peter said, “No,” and his face brightened up. Tony assumed that Peter’s mind had already moved on to something else, and he was proven correct when Peter excitedly asked, “TV now?”

And Tony found it... endearing. He – and he could admit it to himself, now that Peter wasn’t exactly in his right mind and nobody else was around – found almost everything that Peter did, both this smaller version and the teenager, endearing in some way, so it wasn’t anything new.

“Yeah, Pete, we’ll go watch TV now.”

As Tony turned and began to walk towards the elevator, Peter squirmed happily in his arms for no reason at all. Well, Tony assumed that there was a reason, just one that he wasn’t aware of – he’d grown more than familiar with that feeling, as Peter was a complicated kid. He got happy over the most random of things and got sad over things that Tony had long since grown used to. Tony assumed it, the lively innocence and faith in the world, was what made Peter Peter, and Tony wouldn’t change it for anything.

“Never call me Peter,” Peter said, matter-of-fact, tapping his finger against Tony’s shoulder. Tony felt his brow furrow in confusion.

God, this baby talk was going to take a lot out of him.

“Who never calls you Peter?”

“You.” Peter was still talking in that matter-of-fact tone, like it was common knowledge. “’S always Pete, or Undroo’,” _Underoos_ , Tony’s brain helpfully supplied, “or ‘pider-Boy. Not Peter.”

“Huh,” Tony said as he entered the elevator, thinking back. Now that he was focusing on it, actually focusing on it and cataloging all the different names he’d called the kid in his arms. And, yeah. He had always called Peter practically anything but his actual name, and Tony wondered what that meant as he turned and pressed the button for the communal floor. “What do you want me to call you, then?” he asked as the elevator started on its way down.

Peter made a face. “’hoose one?”

“Yep,” Tony said as he nodded. He figured that all the different names he used for Peter would get confusing, mostly to Peter – and he kind of wanted a way to differentiate between his Peter, as in the teenager Peter who was an absolute dork, and this Peter, the one that was too adorable for his own good – and he wanted to have one name for the kid. “You choose one, and I’ll make sure to call you it.”

Peter made another face, this one more exaggerated than the last. Finally, he shrugged, a bashful smile appearing on his face. “I don’ know. You choose,” he said decisively, poking Tony’s shoulder with a finger.

Tony laughed, the sound bursting out of him before he could stop it. “If you don’t know, what makes you think I’m gonna know?”

Peter erupted into giggles. “I don’ know,” he repeated, the words hard to understand through the laughter.

“Okay,” Tony said, quieting down and waiting for Peter to do the same, “how ‘bout this. I’ll call you...” He quickly searched his brain for something simple – he couldn't come up with anything. “We’re gonna stick with _kid_ for now, alright?”

Tony was currently running on only a few hours of sleep, okay, and he’d gone a couple of days without sleeping at all, and he wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind to access all of the creativity simmering in his chest and thrumming through his veins, so. _Kid_ it was.

Peter seemed to be okay with it – he didn’t offer any express objections, that was – so Tony took that to mean that the name was good enough for the moment.

Tony stepped off the elevator and onto the communal floor when the doors opened, taking a second to look around.

The floor was... a bittersweet thing for Tony. There were a lot of good memories here, and also a lot of bad ones. Tony preferred to not think about the floor or anything pertaining to it, so he couldn’t be all that sure about his feelings toward it, but he figured bittersweet was as good a word as any.

He’d originally had plans to gut this floor – he'd had to before he could sell the building – but those had ultimately stopped because Tony had had second thoughts about selling. The Tower, for all intents and purposes, was his home, and Tony wouldn’t give that up just because the Avengers had somewhat tainted it.

Besides, he’d made a lot more good memories here. Most of them were with Peter, after Tony had grown some metaphorical balls and admitted that he felt protective of the kid and wanted to keep him around, but that wasn’t the point.

“’ony,” Peter said, poking Tony’s cheek.

Tony snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Peter, who was looking back at him with his head tilted. “What?”

“I’m hung’y.”

“Hungry? Yeah, me too,” Tony said when Peter nodded. He looked towards the kitchen area of the communal floor. He knew there was food in the refrigerator – Pepper had told him that she’d had people come to stock it and that more people were coming to fix the floor up, though he couldn't remember why that was even happening – and he was pretty skilled in cooking basic things, so he figured it wouldn’t be too wrong of him to whip up a quick meal for both him and Peter.

“Oh, shit,” Tony said, turning back to look towards Peter. “Your metabolism." Tony didn't know how much of Peter's powers had been retained and that was a problem. He knew the kid could still stick to things, but he didn't know anything about Peter's strength or his metabolism – he made a mental note to test that earlier.

"Hunger Scale," he said, "show it to me.” Peter, familiar with the process, immediately held up five fingers and Tony muttered, “Okay, so it’s a seven,” under his breath.

Tony had found that Peter didn’t like to announce the fact that he was hungry, so they’d come up with the Hunger Scale as a way for Peter to say how hungry he was without having to physically say it. It was weird, but it worked, and Peter hadn’t complained about it yet, so Tony wasn't going to, either. Tony pushed for honesty, that was the whole point of the Hunger Scale, but Peter was still Peter, and he usually aimed around two numbers less than whatever the actual number was. He didn’t think that Peter had caught on to Tony’s diagnosis of his answers as of yet, and that worked in Tony’s favor most of the time.

Now, though, seemed like a different story. Tony knew that most kids wanted to eat a lot – they sure begged for food a lot, from what Tony had seen out in public – and that added on to the fact that Peter needed a lot of food to – what was the word – function (Tony didn’t know, it wasn’t a thing that he focused on a lot), and he was sure that he would need to feed Peter a lot.

That was a problem mostly because Peter hated it whenever Tony tried to get him to eat. Peter was a stubborn individual, much like Tony himself, and getting the kid to change his mind when it was already made up was too much of a hassle, one that Tony didn't have the energy or mental capacity to deal with.

Tony told Peter, casually moving towards the kitchen, “I’m in the mood for grilled cheese,” and watched as Peter’s face lit up with a grin.

Grilled cheese sandwiches were Peter's favorite thing to eat if they didn't have anything else. Tony usually made Peter three or four sandwiches with the crusts cut off every day the kid was over for lunch, which was a minimum of four days a week.

Not that Tony was counting, or anything, ‘cause. He wasn’t.

Peter cheered, his brown eyes sparking with happiness, and clapped his hands together as Tony sat him down on one of the stools in front of the island and prayed that he wouldn’t fall. “No crus’ please,” Peter said cheerfully, and Tony laughed to himself shaking his head.

It seemed like no matter how much Peter had changed both mentally and physically, he was still the same in some ways.

“Yeah, yeah, kid,” Tony said as he rolled his sleeves up to his elbow, “I got it. You’re really picky, you know that?”

Immediately, Peter’s entire manner changed. His face dropped and he became more reserved, and he muttered, “Sowwy,” so soft that Tony probably wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t used to Peter speaking softly and barely audible. Looked like he found another thing that this Peter and teenage Peter had in common.

Tony instantly felt bad, as he hadn’t meant to cause that type of reaction in Peter. He’d meant his words as a joke, but Peter obviously hadn’t taken them that way – he was a little sensitive about things like that, because he always thought that the person saying it was making fun of him in a mean way; the kid was insecure, alright? Tony didn’t know how to fix it, so he just turned around to face the fridge and started assembling the supplies to make grilled cheese sandwiches for him and Peter.

Not his best moment, Tony could admit that, but what was he supposed to have done? He was completely clueless about what to do in this situation, and he decided that the best thing to do was to just go about what he was originally going to do before he made the (extremely stupid and thoughtless) comment about Peter and the way he liked his food.

At this point, Tony was thinking that things would've been better had they stayed in the penthouse.

Regardless, Tony was stuck here now, and he could only do his best with the cards he was dealt.

That thought made Tony snort. He vaguely recalled Steve saying something like that to him, a long time ago, and that pissed him off to no end. Steve left, Steve was _gone_ and he took most everyone with him – besides Bruce and Thor, they were just gone – and Tony shouldn't have been thinking about him at all. They'd been friends, for God's sake, and Steve had thrown all that away for Barnes, a dangerous murderer.

Tony was well aware that Barnes had undergone some heavy Hydra brain programming, and that the man hadn't been himself when he'd… _come across_ Tony's parents, and he didn't blame Barnes for that. If anything, he blamed Hydra, because it was their fault. And he also sort of blamed Steve for not telling him about his parents and Barnes, and that was the most important thing at the moment.

They’d been _friends_ , or something close to it, and Tony had never had a lot of those. He always had Pepper and Rhodey, sure, and Jarvis and Friday and DUM-E and U and Butterfingers, but that was it. Those were the very few he trusted with his life, and, for a second there, Tony had thought that trust could be placed in Steve and Natasha and the rest of the team, too.

But Tony never got things like that. He never got people in his life who would _always_ be there for him. He kind of had that with Pepper and Rhodey, but he figured it was only a matter of time until they left him just like everyone else had.

He stared down at the cheese, bread, and butter he had sitting out on the counter and sighed. Not for the first time, a thought about Steve and Natasha and Clint and Maximoff rose up in his mind. It was right there, almost revealing itself, but it sat just out of his reach. It was like the harder he tried to remember, the more he _couldn't remember_. He hated it.

Whatever – it wasn't like Tony cared. He was done caring about people who only cared about him until he made a mistake and then threw him away like he never even mattered. Which, surprisingly, meant that Tony was no longer caring about a lot of people.

"Mis'er 'tark?" said a voice to his right, and Tony jumped, his heart pounding against his chest as he turned his head and saw Peter sitting on the counter.

His mouth dropped open and he stared at Peter's worried face next to him. "Wha– How did you get up there?"

Peter tilted his head to the side, a confused expression sprouting on his face. "Sticky hands," he said like Tony should've known, holding up both of his hands to show Tony.

"Right," Tony muttered to himself, still a little shaken up by being startled out of his thoughts like that. "Try not to sneak up on me like that, kid. Almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sowwy," Peter said, looking vaguely guilty for a few seconds before he straightened up. "Hung'y," he told Tony while making intense eye contact like he was going to blow up if he didn't.

Which Tony firmly did not find adorable. At all.

Tony felt like he had the right to lie to himself and live this little part of his life out in denial, okay, and nothing was going to stop him from doing that if he wanted to, not even the small part of his brain that screamed at him to just call May now and get her to take Peter before Tony got even _more_ attached than he already was.

~

Peter ate his sandwich pieces with a kind of childish happiness that suited him well.

Tony had to cut the sandwiches up after it was discovered that Peter's ability to properly handle things with his fingers was practically nonexistent. He hadn’t known how small to cut the pieces – because if Peter’s motor abilities were compromised, his ability to not chew or choke on food could’ve been compromised as well – so he’d gone for a size in between big and small (or, about the size of his pinkie nail) and hoped that would be enough.

It was cute, watching Peter pick up one small piece of the sandwich with his tiny fingers, pop it into his mouth, and then chew happily as he softly swung his legs back and forth. Peter was cute overall, but Tony found that these small things elevated that status.

Tony was eating his own grilled cheese, leaning against the opposite side of the island. He knew he had to at least get _something_ in his system if he was going to be preoccupied with watching Peter for the next – he snuck a look at the watch wrapped around his wrist – three or so hours. That caused Tony to let out a sigh; it had only been a little under an hour of him watching Peter and Tony was _tired_. And that was saying something because Tony didn’t get tired. That much.

But right now he just wanted to lay down and pass out for at least ten hours before he had to confront the multiple adult responsibilities he had. God. He remembered being a teenager and not being able to wait until he was an adult and he could do his own thing and _leave_ , and look at him now. Tony was pretty sure he’d give anything to be able to be fifteen and in the middle of college, (mostly) free of his parents and (mostly) doing his own thing.

Peter still had a few more years to go before his child-like innocence went away, and, no matter how hard Tony hoped that never happened, Tony knew it was inevitably going to happen because that’s what happened to people in the world. They grew up, and their view of the world changed. Most of the reason why Peter was such a good hero and why he was going to be an even better one than the Avengers as a whole was because of the faith he held in people and the world in general, and Tony didn’t want to be around for the day that all changed.

Okay, that was a lie – he wanted to be around with and for Peter _every_ day, no matter how bad a given day was going to be.

Tony got attached to people easily, no matter how hard he tried not to, and he started to think back on the exact moment his heart decided to attach itself to Peter before he decided it was hopeless. It wasn’t something that had happened all at once; it had been a gradual thing, something that had happened over the course of many months, and Tony couldn’t help it. As much as he tried to deny it, Tony wanted people in his life, even if it ran the risk of either of them getting hurt, and he wanted _Peter_ in his life.

Which sucked for obvious reasons, the main one being that Peter was a _child_ – both right now and under normal circumstances – and Tony didn’t feel like he could be trusted around children, children of any age. Tony didn’t want to be responsible for ruining the wonder that was Peter Parker, and he didn’t want to even have the _chance_ to ruin him.

Stubborn Peter, though, with his big, adorable heart and his _feelings_ and his ability to cause Tony to say yes to practically anything and everything, had managed to stick around by sheer force of will. And, you know, the fact that Tony maybe, kind of, _just a little bit_ wanted to stick around himself.

“‘ony?” Peter asked, and Tony looked up from his plate to see Peter staring back at him with wide, hopeful eyes still swinging his legs. “Juice, pwease?”

“Oh, shoot, yeah, kid.” Tony stuffed the last bite of sandwich into his mouth, chewing and swallowing as he pushed off the island and started towards the refrigerator. “You can have…” He opened the fridge and peered inside. “Apple or grape.”

He was honestly a little surprised that those jugs of juice were even in the refrigerator. They used to be a staple on this floor, for team dinners and movie nights and whatever, but Tony had assumed that someone had gotten rid of everything. These jugs were unopened, and that made Tony frown. Who had put them there?

That question led to the question of who had put all the different food ingredients in what was supposed to be an empty refrigerator. His eyes scanned the contents of the fridge in confusion. Like earlier, there was something popping up in his mind about Pepper and contractors fixing up the floor, and then getting a nutritionist to stock the fridge and cabinets with food for… people. But why would Pepper be stocking the _communal_ floor? Wouldn’t it have been better to turn one of the guest bedrooms into a… whatever it was she was doing with this floor? And also, _who_ was she doing it for?

Tony knew it wasn’t for him, so it had to be for someone else, probably someone they knew, but he couldn’t remember who that someone was.

God, why didn’t Tony remember this?

It was probably because he’d held the conversation about this with Pepper during one of his three-day stretches where he couldn’t sleep for the life of him. That _kind of_ made it Tony’s fault, yes, but, really, it was also kind of Pepper’s fault, too, for trusting him to be awake enough to properly absorb what she was telling him.

He'd have to ask her about that, once he was more prepared to handle her inevitable rant about how he needs to pay more attention when she's going over important things.

“I wan’ apple,” Peter chirped from behind him, causing Tony to stop thinking about the juice and the food and the floor and who it was all for, and to just focus on getting the juice for Peter.

He had to admit it was more effective than going down to his lab and not sleeping for three days straight – doing things for Peter could’ve been his new way of not thinking about things that haunted him, if he planned on keeping baby Peter to stay here with him. Which he didn’t want. At all.

No, Peter had to go with his aunt. Tony didn’t know what he was doing – he barely knew how to keep the older Peter alive and partially cared for when they were at the Tower, how was he supposed to do it for a _child version?_ – and their tentative mentor-mentee relationship would probably be ruined when Tony messed it up, because he would eventually mess it up like he did everything else.

But that, while important in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t the most important thing Tony had to worry about right this very moment. Right now, Tony had to focus on getting Peter his apple juice and then keep the kid occupied for the next three hours.

Tony grabbed the jug of apple juice and walked to a cabinet to get a cup for Peter. It took a while to find the cabinet where the cups were, but Tony found them eventually. And that was when he ran into a problem – all the cups were made of glass. He didn’t really trust Peter enough to be able to handle a piece of glassware without accidentally dropping and breaking it, but there weren’t any other cups that Tony knew of.

He sighed and quickly searched through the different drawers for anything he could find that would be better, but came up empty until he hit the very last drawer he checked. In it, he found a couple of individually wrapped straws, and he figured that was the best he was going to do.

After getting ice from the dispenser in the freezer, Peter giggling behind him at the clinking sound the ice made as it went into the cup – which might have made Tony put more ice than he probably would have – Tony poured apple juice until the cup was about a third of the way full. It wasn’t like Peter needed a ton of juice, anyway. He tore off the top of the straw wrapper and then ripped down the side, dropping the now unwrapped straw into the juice and then walked over to where Peter was sitting.

“Alright, kid, here you go.” He placed the cup in front of Peter and pointed at it sternly. “Don’t pick the cup up. Leave it on the counter, just drink from the straw.”

Peter didn’t answer, but he leaned forward and put his mouth to the straw to suck the juice up, following Tony’s directions, so Tony grabbed Peter’s now empty plate, along with his own, and moved to the sink.

He started washing the dishes, keeping some of his focus on the slurping sounds Peter was making behind him, and finished up pretty quickly. Drying the dishes, he stacked them on the counter, wanting to wait until Peter was not here so he could put them away. It was mostly just him being lazy and not wanting to struggle to place them back in the cabinet – it had been enough of one to take them down in the first place. Tony turned back to Peter to see the kid holding his head with a grimace on his face.

He was moving before he properly registered it. “Hey, what happened?”

Peter’s eyes were squeezed shut as he rubbed at his forehead. “It’s cold,” he said, and Tony looked down at the glass that was still holding juice, only now it was only holding about half of the original amount that Tony poured in.

“Yeah,” Tony murmured, placing a hand on Peter’s back and looking down at the glass of juice that had, like, seven or so ice cubes in it. “Probably shouldn’t have put so much ice in it, huh?”

Peter shook his head.

The both of them stayed like that for a few seconds until Peter relaxed, his body drooping. He turned his head up to look at Tony. “No more.”

Tony assumed that Peter was talking about not finishing the juice, and he didn’t see much of a problem with that. “Okay.” He grabbed the cup and left it on the counter by the sink, on the opposite side of the dried plates, planning to go back and wash it later.

Tony turned back around to see Peter staring at him and he stopped moving, his nerves suddenly rising through the roof. So far, things had been relatively simple – he’d kept Peter occupied with the brain exercises, and then food – but Tony was currently at a loss. He snuck another glance at his watch, letting out a soft sigh once he saw that barely thirty minutes had passed since he'd last checked, which meant that Tony still had to keep Peter occupied for a good two and a half hours.

How fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this ended a little abruptly but i couldn't find a way to continue without a chapter break so yeah. if u feel like Tony got a little too good at dealing with baby Peter too quickly, just know that i feel the same way but i suck at pacing so. i'm terrible at editing and proof-reading so don't be afraid to tell me if you caught any mistakes :)
> 
> also, i made a tumblr! i'm still not all that sure about how exactly i'm supposed to operate it, but i'm in the process of figuring it out. any tips are welcome! you can find me [here](https://flyingpandas.tumblr.com/). (please let me know if that works, i don't know what i'm doing)
> 
> have a nice day, thank you for reading, and i'll see you in the next chapter, whenever it's ready <333


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets started on figuring out what happened to Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is where that Dubious Science tag begins to come into play. ngl, i'm still not entirely sure on the fictional science behind this (or the actual science), but i think i have enough of a handle on it that it's (hopefully) still believable.
> 
> not super proud of this chapter (or any of them) but eh, it is what it is. this is super short, mostly because i'm not exactly in the right headspace right now and i feel like ending the chapter where i did was better than forcing myself to continue it, or waiting another month until i felt like i could.
> 
> a lot of Karen & Peter at the end because i love them so much and i think they're adorable

There would never be enough words to properly describe just how much Tony hated Star Wars. He’d watched it so many times – usually with Peter – he was pretty sure he could quote the entire movie word for word. It was just so - ugh.

However much he hated it, though, he never complained about it. The Star Wars franchise was one of Peter’s favorite things to watch, and Tony didn’t want to ruin that for him. He probably could’ve complained to Pepper or Rhodey or Friday about it, but he didn’t want to risk the information getting back to Peter.

After Peter had said he didn’t want to drink any more juice, Tony had remembered the huge flat-screen TV that was on the floor. He’d jumped at the opportunity to have Peter occupied for another couple of hours, and maybe at the opportunity for Tony to rest his eyes. But, Peter had wanted to watch Star Wars, and Tony didn’t like Star Wars, so his brain had decided to keep him awake for it because Tony’s brain was a piece of shit that liked to torture itself.

So, here he was, sitting on the couch on the communal floor he didn’t want to be on and watching what had to be the literal bane of his existence. Okay – that _may_ have been a tad dramatic.

Tony didn’t like the movie, alright, go ahead and sue him.

Despite all of that, however, here he was. Watching Star Wars. All because Peter loved it.

Honestly, Tony wasn’t even sure why he’d even agreed to watch it. Oh, right – it was because Peter had looked so happy and excited and hopeful when he suggested to Tony that they watch it, and Tony had never been able to say no to Peter. He remembered this one time where Peter had mentioned that he’d wanted a dog for the longest time, and the only reason Tony hadn’t gone ahead and bought one was because Pepper found out what he was planning to do and said that he should ask May first. Obviously, Tony hadn’t asked May. May Parker was probably the only person in the world that scared him more than Pepper did.

Anyway, Tony was watching Star Wars and he probably should’ve been a bit more upset about it, but Peter was laying down on the couch and giggling and even saying some of the lines along with the characters, and Tony didn’t have the heart to complain. It had only been around half an hour, anyway – the movie had barely begun.

Besides, all Tony had to do was stare at the screen and pretend to be paying attention. He had long since mastered the art of looking like he was paying attention. Granted, it was a skill he usually only used when he was sitting in a board meeting that he didn’t want to be in, but he figured it wouldn’t be all that wrong of him to use them now.

Peter moved around on the couch, and Tony turned his head to watch him. He had this very irrational but still very large fear of Peter falling and hurting himself. There had been two or three times on patrol when Peter had run out of web fluid and had fallen. It hadn’t been a _huge_ distance from the ground, but it had been high enough for Tony to be extremely worried about it ever happening again – that was when he started to implement the extra web cartridges Peter now carried around with him practically everywhere. Tony just wanted him to be prepared, there was no harm in that.

Tony watched as Peter shifted so he was doing a headstand of sorts on the couch, his feet propped up against the back of the couch. He stayed like that for a while, slightly wiggling from side to side, until he suddenly tilted too much to his right. While Tony didn’t freak out per se, his heart did start to beat _a bit_ faster. Nothing major, but it was enough for Tony to decide that maybe he should do something that allowed Peter to release all of the energy that was causing him to move.

It wasn’t anything new, exactly, because even as a teenager Peter had moved all the time, but Tony somewhat trusted Teenager Peter to remain relatively safe and unharmed, and he definitely did not have that same trust towards the current Peter.

Tony grabbed the remote and paused the TV, scooping Peter up within the same range of movement. He tossed the remote back on the couch before he rested Peter on his hip and started towards the elevator.

Peter looked confused. “No more S’ar Wars?”

No, and, really, thank God for that.

“You know something, kid?” Tony began as he entered the elevator. “It just hit me that you haven’t been down to the lab in a while.” _A while_ in this case meant _four days_ , the longest that Peter had ever been away from the Tower – Peter had had a huge test that he’d wanted to study for, and, apparently, little to no studying ever got done when Peter was at the tower. “Dum-E’s missed you.”

Dum-E had been an insufferable little shit, but Tony couldn't say that because Peter loved Dum-E. Every time Tony insulted him, Peter got offended on the bot’s behalf, showering him with praises and pats and claiming that he was “extremely helpful, Mr. Stark.”

Extremely helpful? More like extreme pain in Tony’s ass. Tony couldn’t remember all the times he’d had to explain the differences between all the types of screwdrivers to the bot, or how many times he’d had to refuse a smoothie because the possibility of it having motor oil – or some other thing that wasn’t consumable, Dum-E wasn’t picky – was very high.

Peter immediately brightened up at Tony’s words and Tony had to resist the urge to brush back the curls hanging over the kid’s forehead and into his eyes. It felt like such a natural thing to do that it had Tony’s fingers twitching and the arm that wasn’t holding Peter lifting a little bit, but he held himself back because you just didn’t _do_ that, completely out of nowhere. Besides, why should Tony have cared if Peter’s hair was in his eyes? It wasn’t like it directly impacted Tony in any way.

“Dum-E miss me?” Peter asked excitedly, slightly bouncing up and down on Tony’s hip and breaking him out of his thoughts. “I miss him, too!”

Tony grunted in response. He loved Dum-E, he did – even though the bot was a bit of a problem to deal with – but allowing Peter to interact with him was probably the worst thing Tony had ever done. Dum-E played favorites, okay, he was always as helpful as possible with Peter but every time Tony needed something it ended in disaster, usually with some sort of fire because Dum-E was obsessed with the fire extinguisher and wanted any excuse to use it, the bastard.

U had been almost the exact same, but Dum-E was just - _something_ _else_ , alright, and Tony was so over it.

Anyway, Peter loved him, and Dum-E had missed his favorite lab companion, so Tony was sure that he could bring Peter down to the lab and keep him occupied in a relatively safe way while Tony took the opportunity to run some tests and get a better idea of why, exactly, Peter was around thirteen years younger than he was supposed to be.

“Yeah,” Tony said, pressing the button to close the elevator doors. “So, why don’t we go down there and you can say hi?”

Peter nodded eagerly, his curls becoming even more all over the place, and Tony had half a mind to make a pitstop in a bathroom and find a brush to tame Peter’s hair but he ultimately brushed that thought away. He didn’t need to _brush the kid’s hair_ , how weird was that? Peter could live with it until Tony could call May, which would be in just about two and a half hours.

Really, Tony was playing it safe by planning to call at six – it was a late enough time to for him to be able to say that he’d wanted to wait until a reasonable time to call, but it was still early enough to claim that he hadn’t waited an exceptionally long time before informing May about Peter. It was (sort of) a win-win, if you didn’t count that Tony was beginning to doubt his ability to stay awake for that long. He didn’t sleep a lot, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t sleep _at all_ , and he knew that he needed to sleep, especially now.

Technically, he could just call May now and get it over with, or even go to sleep now and wait until after his first meeting to call her. At the moment, Tony was definitely leaning towards the latter option, but he was going to stick with the plan he was already going along with for as long as he could, just to see where it got him.

Tony couldn’t resist letting out another sigh. All he really wanted right now – something that didn’t happen all that frequently – was to go to bed with Pepper and pass out until it was time for his first meeting of the day, which was in less than five hours. He knew from experience that showing up to what he was sure was a _very_ important meeting with less than, at the very least, three hours of sleep would end in disaster. It happened _every time_ because Tony was an irritable monster when he had to sit and listen to people talk and all he wanted to do was pass out.

But it was fine. As long as Tony was in bed right after he called May, he should be good and no (significant) problems would arise. Probably.

~

As he predicted, Dum-E and U were both very excited to see Peter, and Peter returned the sentiment.

Currently, the three of them were huddled together on the opposite side of the lab from where Tony was, Dum-E letting out a series of enthusiastic beeps every once in a while and Peter chatters endlessly. Peter giggled occasionally, sounding like he was having the time of his life and Tony wasn't jealous, at all.

Okay, maybe he was. But what was happening right now wasn't fair! He wanted to be included in the festivities, but every time he tried to approach the group, they made shooing motions until Tony retreated back to his lab bench in shame. The feeling of rejection was high, and it just - wasn't fair.

Tony suspected that the behavior of Peter, Dum-E, and U was a result of Tony drawing blood from Peter. He hadn't known that Peter and needles did not get along – it's not like Peter had ever told him – so he went in thinking that everything would be fine. Obviously, everything was not fine.

Peter had sobbed, barely a step away from screaming, which made Tony feel like a terrible excuse of a human being. He probably hadn't been fully capable of drawing blood, especially drawing blood from a child who acted like needles were an atomic bomb. His hands had been shaking – only a minimal amount, but still enough to be noticeable – and he wasn't well-versed in the knowledge of comforting crying children, so it was safe to say that experience ended in a complete disaster.

After he'd gotten enough blood for multiple tests, Dum-E and U whisked Peter away before Tony could do anything and had soothed his cries with comforting beeps (that had been paired with accusing beeps in Tony's direction. How beeps could be accusatory, Tony didn’t know, but he'd given up on trying to understand it a long time ago).

The two bots had sat Peter down while Tony cleaned up his area to get started on examining Peter's blood samples. He’d directed Friday to get started on running Peter's blood for any chemicals or significant changes from what was normal. Or, from what was considered normal for Peter. The kid was lucky Tony had test results from blood samples of him as a teenager – it would make the whole process go a lot smoother and, hopefully, a lot faster.

Dum-E had given Peter a blanket, that they kept hidden just for him, and one of his favorite granola bars, that they also kept hidden just for him, and Peter hadn't moved away from the bots since. Peter was messing around with one of the things he kept in the lab. He occasionally asked Dum-E for a specific tool, and Dum-E delivered with no problem. Not even confused chittering, something that Tony got on a daily basis.

You see? Favoritism.

Tony thought it might've been because Peter was Peter and everyone loved him. Hell, at this point, Tony was genuinely considering the fact that Friday liked Peter more than him, and that was something that he couldn't ignore.

"Hey, Fri," he said, directing his gaze to one of the cameras in the corner of the lab. "Me or Peter, go."

"If we're talking about who I enjoy having around more, then it's you," Friday answered immediately. Tony briefly stopped to bask in that because at least _one_ of his children was on his side, but then Friday continued with, "but in terms of general likeability, I'm afraid it's Peter, Boss."

Tony threw his hands up in defeat. "Seriously? What does a man have to do to get a little love around here?" Peter giggled from across the lab and Tony braced his forearms against the table with a grin, deciding to draw out the dramatics. Making a fake-sad face, Tony said, “Oh no, _nobody_ likes me, this is just _terrible_.”

He couldn’t fault Rhodey for the faces he pulled earlier – Tony was pretty sure he would do anything to make Peter laugh. Not that he would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.

Peter stood up on the couch, ignoring Dum-E’s beeps and whirs of panic, and slid the blanket off his shoulders. “I like you, ‘ony!” he declared proudly – _proudly_ – as he put his fists on his hips in a classic superhero pose, and Tony couldn’t stop the fond smile that overtook his face.

“Is that right?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “Yeah!”

Tony shook his head, looking down at the table as he unsuccessfully tried to not smile.

“Boss,” Friday said, “I have the results of the comparison of Peter’s current blood cells and his most recent blood cell sample in my system.”

Tony directed his attention down to the screens in front of him. “Alright, baby girl, hit me.”

Things flitted across the hologram screens, almost too fast for Tony to catch, though he did manage in the end. From what he could tell, there was no substance or chemical in Peter’s bloodstream to indicate that anything was wrong, even though there was a clear difference between the two blood samples.

Friday confirmed that.

“As you can see, there is no unknown substance of any kind in Peter’s bloodstream. It seems as though the cells have reverted in age on a molecular level, their entire composition exactly what you’d expect it to be if you were looking at Peter’s current physical state.”

Tony frowned. “So his cells just turned younger without any outside effect from any sort of chemical?”

“I’d have to wait for the more comprehensive results to get back, but it appears as if that is the case, yes.”

Tony’s frown grew. That made no sense – all the half-assed conclusions that he'd come to operated under the conclusion that Peter had been injected with something. With this new bit of information, he wasn’t quite sure where to go next.

And then he had a thought that made him ashamed to call himself Tony Stark.

"Pull the footage from Peter's suit, starting at around, eh… eleven or so."

Honestly, sometimes Tony was really dumb. The thought to check the footage hadn’t even _occurred_ to him until now, and that just went to prove how bad he was at the whole mentor thing.

Regardless, Tony watched as the footage from Peter’s suit appeared on the screens. He saw what Peter was seeing, as well as several different angles from the small cameras embedded in the actual suit itself.

Tony watched over all the different angles as Peter swung in between buildings, helping people out and doing his everyday thing. It made a smile come to his face because right now he was seeing Peter. Peter loved doing this, loved being Spider-Man, and it showed in all of his interactions with everyone he came across while in the suit. Tony was proud, in a distant kind of way, because Peter was just so _good_ in everything he did.

After around two minutes of watching Peter swing by his webs, Tony was getting tired. Just as he was about to tell Friday to skip ahead a few minutes, Karen – Tony really was never going to get over that name – started talking and Tony tuned in.

 _“Peter,”_ Karen said, and the Peter across the lab perked up at the voice of his AI, _“I don’t think you should continue to patrol any longer. It’s getting late, and your reaction time has slowed down considerably.”_

 _“Aw,”_ Peter groaned. _“C’mon, Karen, I only have, like, twenty minutes left before I gotta be back at the apartment, and I’m not gonna be able to come out for very long during the weekend because I have to study for that Spanish test on Monday.”_

_“All the more reason to go back to the apartment.”_

_“Spanish isn’t important, Karen!”_ Despite him swinging through the city – which Tony knew required a lot of core strength and arm strength and possibly just everything strength – and talking to Karen at the same time, Peter didn’t even sound the slightest bit winded. _“When am I ever going to need it?”_

 _“In lots of situations_ ,” came Karen’s easy, and immediate, reply, and Tony could just imagine the number of times that this particular argument had come up between Karen and Peter. _“Would you like me to list them out for you?”_

Peter sighed. _“No, Kare, that’s alright. I just. I don’t get why superheroing should be affected by my **Spanish class**_ , you know?” Peter rounded a building, waving down at a person who shouted out to him.

_“I think Mr. Stark wants to make sure that you get to be a teenager. You’re going to miss out on a lot of things if your entire life revolves around being Spider-Man, and nobody wants that.”_

The conversation between Karen and Peter stopped, and Tony watched his screens as the Peter in the recording kept swinging. Shifting his gaze up so he could see the Peter in his lab, Tony thought about all the rules he and May had in place for Peter. All the times they’d made Peter finish his homework before he could go on patrol, or made him come back by a set time, or grounded him by taking the suit away for a couple of days.

It wasn’t like Tony had _wanted_ to do all those things, but, kind of like Karen said, Tony didn’t want Spider-Man to take over Peter’s entire life. He knew that there wasn’t an actual difference between Spider-Man and Peter, not really, but he wanted to show and remind Peter that there was more to life, especially as a teenager, than being a superhero.

 _“Peter,”_ Karen said over the recording, drawing Tony from his thoughts and causing him to look back down at the screens. _“It seems that there is a disturbance at a nearby pawn shop, around two blocks away.”_

 _“Alright!”_ Peter cheered. _“Wait, I’m not happy that there’s a disturbance or anything, I’m just.”_ Peter made an animal-sounding noise that was a weird mix of a yell and shriek, and then proceeded to say, _“You know?”_ like that explained everything. Which. It didn’t.

Karen, though, must have been used to Peter making weird noises as explanations, because she told him, _“Of course, Peter. But I still do not think that you are at your best right now and I think it would be wise to call it a night.”_

_“You’re no fun, Karen.”_

_“I try.”_

Tony smiled in amusement and a little bit of pride. Apparently, Karen was similar to Friday in regards to their responses to bullshit.

Peter sighed over the recording. _“Okay, **fine**_ , _maybe I should get home, but you gotta let me at least check it out. If it’s nothing I promise I’ll just web their feet to the ground and leave, but what if it’s more than nothing?”_

Tony imagined that if Karen could sigh, she would. Hey, he didn’t blame her – Peter was very aggravating sometimes.

_“Okay, Peter. But as soon as your curfew comes I’m calling your aunt, regardless of whether or not you're still crime fighting.”_

_“Deal.”_

Recording Peter started to change his course slightly, and Tony was filled with a strong sense of dread that told him he was about to see whatever had caused Peter to end up as a two-year-old. And it wouldn’t be good.

Tony looked up at the Peter hanging out with his two bots across the lab one last time before he fully immersed himself in the recording. He’d said it before and he’d say it again: he was going to kill Peter as soon as the kid was back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updating after 2 days of not sleeping because that's where my life choices have led me. can't wait until staying up until 2 in the morning every night and drinking coffee as a means of survival is seen as a normal adult thing and not as "unhealthy behavior"
> 
> also, i normally use HTML to write because i'm familiar with coding like that, but because i haven't slept in a while and i don't have the brainpower for that at the moment, i decided to use the Rich Text thing, so if anything looks weird that's why. please let me know if anything _actually_ looks weird, though, that would be extremely helpful.
> 
> have a nice day <33

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [tumblr](https://michellejones-stacy.tumblr.com/)! i mainly write Parkner on there, but I'd really like to get into writing irondad as well, so feel free to send in prompts and requests :)
> 
> have a nice day <33


End file.
